An Improper Lady (The Powder and Patch Collection) (4 page)

Bella smiled. “Sir Edmund was on his way
to
his club, you say?” Mrs. Grimwald nodded. “You are
quite
sure he had not already visited that establishment and was, perhaps, rather intoxicated?”

Mrs. Grimwald’s mouth opened and closed. Bella suspected that speechlessness was a new experience for her.

“You are very welcome, of course, to search my house if you believe I have your niece hidden away here,” Bella informed her kindly.

Mrs. Grimwald’s eyes narrowed. Lady Cavendish’s lovely face expressed nothing other than polite sympathy, but her uninvited guest also sensed mild amusement in her tone. These were not the emotions Mrs. Grimwald had expected to encounter. Her intellect was not large, but the driving force of her life was her desire to improve the social standing of her daughters. Bella was able to read her visitor’s thoughts tolerably well. If Mrs. Grimwald made a fool of herself now, in front of this elegant lady – one who, moreover, moved in the finest circles - it would deliver a blow to her ambitions from which they were unlikely to recover.

With profuse apologies for taking up her ladyship’s time on a fool’s errand, Mrs. Grimwald heaved herself up from her seat. Her expression did not bode well for the hapless Sir Edmund. Bella escorted her to the door and wished her well in her search for her young relative. She watched in some amusement as, resembling nothing so much as a galleon in a brisk wind, Mrs. Grimwald sailed down the street. Her bulk was such that street vendors, link boys and even a mongrel carrying a stolen loaf of bread, were forced to leap for safety as she passed.

Bella was conscious of a desire to share her enjoyment of the ridiculous scene with Sir Peregrine.
Why did it always come back to him?
Running lightly back up the steps, she went to inform a distraught Primrose that her aunt had, for the time being at least, departed.

***

Primrose sat in a chair at the side of the fire, wrapped in a thick woollen shawl and showing signs of alarming rigidity afflicting every part of her slender body. Bella was fast losing patience with her.

“
You must try to drink some water,” she repeated for the fifth time, but Primrose shook her head from side to side, her hands gripping the sides of the chair so tightly that her knuckles shone white.

“
Your ladyship might want to try chucking that cold water over her instead,” Miss Faulkner, Bella’s dresser remarked, casting a longing look at a pitcher which stood on a side table. “I’ll be happy to do it for you, m’lady, if you wish.”

Bella shook her head and dismissed her devoted retainer, turning back to Primrose. “I have told you, my dear, that I will not be forced into handing you over to Mrs. Grimwald. You must believe me when I say I am more than a match for your aunt!”

Primrose remained unconvinced and it was only the arrival of Sir Peregrine – some twenty minutes later - which roused her from her semi-catatonic state. Since her response to his courteous greeting was to burst into a wild bout of sobbing, he eyed her in some alarm and begged to be informed how he had offended her.

Bella drew him to one side and, in a few precise sentences, informed him what had happened in his absence.

“Bubbled, eh?” He regarded Primrose sympathetically. “Just as well I’ve found your Ned for you, Miss Chorley. You’ll never believe this, he was here at Horse Guards all the time! While I was scouring the country…” he seemed inclined to brood on this circumstance for a second. Recollecting his errand, he continued, “He’s awaiting us at The Swan With Two Nicks.”

He got no further. Miraculously cured of her tears, Primrose leaped to her feet and, with a squeal of delight, grasped his hand and kissed it gratefully.

“Here!” Sir Peregrine protested, casting a helpless look in Bella’s direction. “No need for that! Seems to me,” he added, when Primrose had begged his pardon, “there is not a moment to be lost if that aunt of yours is intent on recovering you.”

Galvanised into action, the two ladies busied themselves, hurrying upstairs and seeking Miss Faulkner’s support. That worthy lady, glad to see the back of her mistress’s young guest, began expertly throwing sundry items into an overnight bag. Sir Peregrine, meanwhile, rewarded himself for his endeavours with a glass of Bella’s finest cognac. Leaving Primrose to finish her packing, Bella joined him before the fire in her drawing room.

“What next, Sir Peregrine?” she asked. “I do not like the idea of handing Primrose over to this young man without knowing what his intentions are. She is the veriest innocent, you know, and I’ve no desire to have her ruin on my conscience.”

His lips twitched momentarily. “Minding the proprieties, my lady? You?” he asked, raising his brows.

Bella laughed in acknowledgement of his scepticism. “I accept it is out of character, but I do feel a sense of responsibility for her welfare.”

“
Fear not. Young Smith seems an honourable chap. He means to take her to his mother in Kent and place her in her care until they can be married.”

“
But how will his family respond to such a plan?” Bella wondered, her eyes troubled as they scanned his face, “Primrose has no fortune, you know, and her aunt is quite dreadfully vulgar!”

“
Fortune won’t matter, but, you are right, vulgarity is unforgivable.” He shuddered slightly. “Best not to mention her unfortunate connections until the knot is safely tied. Smith seems comfortably off. He’s not hanging out for a rich wife. There is just him and his widowed mother, who dotes on him, by his own account.”

He finished his brandy with an appreciative sigh. “Smith doesn’t foresee any problems. Thinks his mother will take a liking to Miss Chorley as she’s a quiet girl, not the managing, interfering sort. Pleasant little thing, probably good company for Mrs. Smith while her son is stationed in London.”

Bella looked unconvinced. “Having spent over a week with her, I can confirm that Primrose is a sweet girl, but she is not the most sparkling of companions!”

“
Have you been devilish bored?” he enquired sympathetically. “I hear half the men in London have been languishing in a trough of despair occasioned by your absence! Never fear, you may resume your favourite pastimes once we have Miss Chorley safely disposed of!”

Bella eyed him thoughtfully. “Yes,” she agreed, “I may, mayn’t I?”

***

“
You are full of surprises, Sir Peregrine,” Bella informed him an hour later as they stood together in the busy, cobbled courtyard of The Swan With Two Nicks coaching inn. The icy cold permeated Bella’s kid boots, and she stamped her feet in an attempt to restore the feeling to her toes. The landlord brought out cups of steaming mulled punch and she clasped gloved hands around hers gratefully. In a nearby church, a choir rehearsed festive songs, reminding her that Christmas was almost upon them.

Sir Peregrine glanced down at Bella in amusement. “Now how can that be so? It is certainly not my reputation! Generally, you know, I am considered something of a dull dog!” he stated it matter-of-factly, and without rancour.

“You have played the match-maker quite expertly on this occasion.” Bella inclined her head towards the carriage into which Captain John Smith was tenderly handing a mistily smiling Primrose. He had seized Bella’s hand with a gratitude which bordered on ferocity, expressing his profuse thanks for her assistance.

“
That child has viewed you as an object of almost god-like reverence, you know,” she pointed out to Sir Peregrine as the carriage drew away. “She’d have abandoned her beloved soldier in an instant at a word from you.”

“
I know.” He handed their empty cups to an ostler, and offered Bella his arm with old-fashioned courtesy. “But only think how tiring to be obliged to forever live up to such high expectations!”

Her gurgle of laughter made him glance sidelong at her enchanting profile. “Besides,” he added blandly, guiding her across the road in the wake of an assiduous link-boy, “I think you already know that my personal tastes run in quite another direction.”

Bella looked up, directly into his smiling eyes and her heart gave a funny little leap, as if it was attempting to escape her chest. Just, she thought crossly, as she had begun to believe her heart was no longer capable of such odd behaviour!

“
Do you intend to spend Christmas at St. Anton?” she asked. Her own gilt-edged invitation had been delivered that morning. Although she had other options, she thought it highly likely that Sir Peregrine would choose to spend the holiday period with his friend, Jack. If that was the case, wild horses would not keep her away. There would be plenty of opportunities during a festive house party to bring her plans for his seduction to a satisfactory conclusion.
I have become the moth to his flame… and, heaven help me, I would not have it any other way!

“
That depends,” he said, distracted as he noticed an acquaintance across the street. “Good Lord, what possessed Cartwright to choose such an odd wig, do you imagine? He resembles nothing so much as a dandelion head!”

“
Depends?” Bella prompted him impatiently.

He turned back with a rueful grin, and begged her pardon for his lapse of attention. “It depends on what
your
plans are, my lady.”

Bella’s heart beat its uneven tattoo again. “I will be going to St. Anton.” She was pleased that she managed to maintain a calm tone.

“Then I shall see you there,” he replied cheerfully, and, since they had reached her front doorstep, he bowed and continued on his way.

Chapter Six

The Countess of St. Anton was feeling rather nervous. After all, twelve months ago, she had been modest Rosie Delacourt, living quietly in the country with her widowed father and her younger brother. Now, she was mistress of St. Anton Court, one of the largest and finest Elizabethan houses in England. And perhaps, she thought, surveying the hive of activity that was the great hall, a Christmas house party might prove just a trifle ambitious for her first venture as a society hostess!

St. Anton Court was approached by means of a wooden footbridge over the moat, which lapped at the outer walls of all four wings. The original 14th century house comprised a grand hall with a cluster of rooms leading off along winding passage ways. During the reign of Queen Elizabeth, four wings had been added, and the most recent contribution, from Jack’s grandfather, was the grand Gatehouse Tower on the west range. The half-timbered black and white walls of the main building contrasted pleasantly with the golden sandstone of more recent additions. When Jack first brought her here a few weeks ago, Rosie had, on several occasions, found herself completely lost along one dark, panelled corridor or another.

The grand hall was built in 1330, and had been improved in Tudor times by the addition of an enormous window, the stained glass of which cast rainbows of colour over the stone flagged floor. Beautifully carved leaves, vines, and floral emblems including royal Tudor symbols, decorated the oak-panelled walls, and the high, vaulted ceiling was cunningly supported by carved statues.

Jack regularly described his ancestral home as a “draughty pile of old stones”, but Rosie noticed the affectionate gleam in his eyes when he spoke of the place. When, after a prolonged honeymoon, she had arrived here and looked up at the beautiful façade, a thrill of anticipation that she was now part of this incredible heritage ran through her.

Under Rosie’s supervision, the huge fireplace – inside which four men could easily stand – was piled high with blazing, sweet-scented yule logs. Boughs of greenery, including fir, yew and laurel, draped the wainscoting, and woven strands of holly and ivy decorated the intricately carved balustrade which flanked the wide, central staircase.

“
It looks like home!” a delighted voice informed her, and Rosie turned her head to smile at her brother, Harry. Their father had always celebrated Christmas in style and she was determined to recreate the celebrations of friends, family and feasting that had resonated through her childhood.

“
When did you get so tall that I must look up at you?” she enquired, laughing, and Harry leaned an elbow on her shoulder to emphasise the new height difference. His golden retriever, Hero, sniffed the air and gazed suspiciously at the roaring fire. With the sigh of a dog who has taken time out from pressing matters, he circled three times and flopped down close to the blaze.

A wave of nausea hit Rosie suddenly, and she decided to go to her room and lie down until it had passed. As she placed her foot on the first stair, Jack burst into the hall, bringing a cold air smell in with him. His face broke into a boyish grin when he saw his wife, and, sweeping her up into his arms he twirled her round.

“Put me down, Jack, do!” Rosie begged, afraid that her stomach would not survive such exuberance.

She saw the questioning look in his clear, blue eyes, but chose to ignore it. “I am a little tired,” she confessed and felt guilty when he was instantly all concern. She patted his cheek. “I will lay me down for half an hour and be right as a trivet by dinner, I swear.”

He kissed her cheek and turned to warm his coat-tails by the fire. “By the by, sweetheart,” he called as she reached the turn in the stairs. Rosie looked back over her shoulder. “That maiden aunt of Perry’s, the one with the vast fortune, looks likely to die at last, and he has posted down to Devon to pay his respects. He sent a scrawled note begging your forgiveness if he should arrive late for the party, or, quite conceivably, miss it altogether.”

***

The journey from London was long and tiring, and Bella had broken the tedium with an overnight stay at a country inn. It was not an experience she relished and, by the time St. Anton Court came into view, she was heartily bored of the luxurious interior of her travelling coach and her own company.

Rosie hurried forward to greet her. The two women had not always been comfortable in each other’s company. Indeed, there had been a time when Rosie subscribed to the generally held view that Bella was Jack’s mistress. Those days were past and they were now unlikely, but firm friends.

Bella’s carriage was piled high with all manner of packages and gifts.

“
The Thames is frozen over,” she explained, “and a variety of traders have set up their tents on its surface. So many delightful stalls to choose from, brass, copper, toys, silver merchants, sweet trifles! The list is endless and quite irresistible, I assure you.”

Rosie escorted Bella to a delightful, low-beamed bedchamber, where a welcoming fire crackled in the grate. Sighing with relief, Bella untied the ribbons of her bonnet and held out her hands to the blaze.

“So tell me,” Bella looked Rosie up and down. “When will the baby be born?” She laughed at Rosie’s dumbfounded expression. “Come now! ‘Tis not
such
a surprise, surely, that I should guess why you are looking a little peaky! It is the way a woman’s body works, you know!” she teased. Except for mine, she thought with a familiar pang of sadness. “I take it Jack is overjoyed?”

“
I haven’t told him yet,” Rosie confessed. “I have only just realised it myself! At first, I thought that the rich food and fine wines in Europe had left me feeling sickly. It seemed too soon to be anything else, until I heard you say it out loud just now, well, I would not allow myself to think it! Then, since we arrived back in England, I have been so busy getting to know my new home. This party will be the first time Jack has seen many of his family for years, since before he joined the Jacobite cause and suffered those dreadful consequences. Anyhow, it just feels like the wrong time to tell him, to draw his attention away from this reunion.”

“
Rosie,” Bella took her hands and drew her down to sit on the bed next to her. “If you think anything matters one jot to Jack in comparison to what he feels for you, well you deserve a good slap, my girl!”

Rosie laughed. “I will tell him as soon as the time is right,” she promised. “And what of you?” she continued audaciously. “Jack told me that you and Sir Peregrine appeared to be finding a quite uncommon pleasure in each other’s company?”

“Jack is annoyingly perceptive! But, is it not the most ridiculous thing you have ever heard?” Bella sighed, making no attempt to refute the suggestion. She took a deep breath, “You do not consider him too young for me?”

Rosie regarded her in astonishment, “Since when has that been an issue for
you
?” she caught herself up guiltily, “I mean, of course, he is not!”

Bella sighed. “At the risk of sounding like a giddy schoolgirl, this is different, Rosie. I have not felt like this since…” She bit her lip. “Well, in a very long time.”

“Oh, what a pity he is not joining us for Christmas after all!” Rosie exclaimed then, noticing her visitor’s stricken look, asked in concern, “Why, Bella, whatever is the matter?”

***

On Christmas night, the guests gathered in the great hall, where long tables were laid for dinner. Candlelight glistened off the elegant porcelain tableware and the flickering glow from the huge fire lent a sense of drama. Formal rules for dining were observed, and Jack seated himself at the foot of the table while Rosie went to the head. The most senior of the guests were placed closest to their hosts. Bella found herself between an elderly St. Anton cousin and the local parson. She would be having strong words with Rosie later!

On this special occasion, the first course consisted of several different soups and broths, buttered vegetables, boiled cod in a rich cream sauce and joints of beef, mutton and ham. The second course was lighter, being made up of steamed and pureed vegetables, chicken cooked with mace and caraway seeds, dressed rabbit and guinea fowl and a large peacock pie.

The evening’s conversation piece was a mock boar's head made of sponge cake and cream. Elaborate desserts were a statement of high fashion, and Rosie’s cook did not disappoint. Fresh and sugared fruits, sweetmeats, jams, jellies, creams and ices filled every spare inch of the table. Wine and ale were served and, for those guests who craved something lighter, there was cordial or water. When the port decanter was circulated to the gentlemen, the ladies withdrew to the drawing room where they sipped sherry.

Later, when the tables were cleared and removed, the ladies returned to the hall where musicians struck up, and some of the younger members of the party engaged in an impromptu dance.

“Could she have tired of me, Bella?” Jack asked, watching his wife as she mingled with her guests and made polite conversation with each of them.

“
Don’t be a fool, Jack!”

“
But in the short time we have been married, she has unaccountably changed towards me…” he explained, sipping his wine. “It began in Vienna. She seems distracted. Why, I can say her name a dozen times and get no response! And,” he lowered his voice conspiratorially, “at the risk of sounding indelicate …”

“
Consider to whom you speak, Jack,” Bella reminded him with a wry smile. “Indelicacy is my speciality.”

He laughed appreciatively. “When we were first wed, we both wanted to spend every minute in bed. Indeed, we could scarcely keep our hands off each other! Now all Rosie wants to do is sleep!”

“For a clever man, Jack, you can be quite staggeringly stupid at times!” Bella said. Before he could ask what she meant by her unflattering comment, his brother, Daniel, called him over to supply verification of a childhood anecdote. Bella watched as he slid an arm about his wife’s waist and Rosie leaned gratefully against him. Not much wrong there, she decided.

With a sigh, she glanced around the room. There was not one single person she had any desire to speak to. Really, she was becoming a trifle too particular in her tastes!

“I say, is that not Pomeroy?” an enthusiastic young gentleman asked his friend, with a gesture in the direction of the staircase. Bella swung round, only just managing to stifle the exclamation which sprang to her lips. The object of their attention was, at that precise moment, raising a pinch of snuff to one nostril with a polished gesture while surveying the company languidly. When Jack hailed him, he minced forward on diamond encrusted heels, the light of hundreds of candles reflected in the jewels that adorned his fingers, profusion of ruffles and even the band which confined his powdered hair.

“
The one you told me about?” the other young man asked incredulously. “Fellow you said was a demon in the boxing ring? That
cannot
be him, surely?”

“
It
is
him. They say if he wasn’t a gentleman, he could make a fortune from prize fights! By Jove, I’m going to speak to him tonight, ask him about that punishing right hook of his.”

Bella, who was in no mood to forgive Sir Peregrine for cutting up her peace with his tardiness, observed the famous pugilist from under her lashes. He was chastising his friend, Jack, for clapping him too soundly on the back, thereby endangering the line of his full-skirted crimson velvet coat. In the middle of this discourse, he looked up and saw Bella. His eyes softened involuntarily and, in spite of herself, Bella’s own eyes reflected his warm expression. With a last quip in Jack’s direction, Sir Peregrine made his way to her side.