Candice Hern (18 page)

"You are fortunate, Penelope," Wilhelmina said, "that your young man is so cautious. As for the rest of you, if your gentleman does not wish to sheathe himself, there are other steps you should consider. Just in case."

"Like what?" Marianne asked. Just in case.

"Coitus interruptus is the easiest method, of course," the duchess said, "but it relies on the gentleman for its effectiveness. If you wish to take matters into your own hands, there are several methods to be considered. There are herbal infusions and brews that may help prevent conception, but they are not always reliable and I do not recommend them. There are insertions, of course, but quite frankly, I find them rather unpleasant, and the smell can be distracting. But they can be effective and you might want to consider them."

Marianne noted that she was not the only one paying rapt attention. All writing had come to a halt and every woman at the table listened intently as the duchess explained how to make pessaries of lard and flour, and the effectiveness of tansy, pennyroyal, bitter almonds, and willow bark. She described douches made of castor oil and camphor and rue, and the best ways to use them.

These were things a girl's mother never told her. Thank God for Wilhelmina.

"And finally," Wilhelmina continued, "my personal method of choice is a mixture of juniper juice and wine. Drinking it after an evening's pleasure can be most effective. It has never failed me."

The duchess had been experienced with men from a young age, and as far as Marianne knew, she had no children. The juniper juice must have worked.

"Perhaps we should visit an apothecary when we are finished with these invitations," Beatrice said, smiling. "We would not want to find ourselves without a supply of juniper juice."

"But we would give away the game," Marianne said, "if we all marched in there at once."

"Yes, and we might inadvertently start a run on the stuff," Penelope said, "causing a great shortage. And then how merry would we be?"

All five women, including Grace, burst into laughter.

* * *

"How about this blue brocade? It would look lovely with the Turkey carpet." Marianne fingered the fabric from one of many bolts arrayed on the display table for Lavinia Nesbitt's inspection. When she heard that her mother-in-law was looking to replace the drawing room curtains in her London house, she decided an expedition to the linendraper's might be more amenable than another afternoon in Lavinia's drawing room. She had no desire to spend another strained afternoon sipping tea, watching Lavinia stitch her late husband's embroidered waistcoats into cushion covers, and listening to all the ways Marianne had done harm to David's memory.

"Oh, no," Lavinia said. "I could never use blue. William hated blue. He insisted on dark red draperies in the drawing room, and that's what we shall have."

"Forgive me, Lavinia, but William has been gone for over fourteen years. I am sure he would not mind if you preferred blue or green draperies."

Lavinia glared at her with contempt. "I will never do anything that would have displeased William Nesbitt. I am his widow, and unlike some other widows, I honor my husband's memory."

Marianne stifled a groan. She would not allow the woman to get under her skin. Not today, when it would be too easy to make her feel that she was betraying David by pursuing a relationship with Lord Julian. Or by sharing a heated kiss with his best friend.

"Then by all means," she said, "let it be the dark red. How about this beautiful velvet?"

They spent another half hour sorting through dozens of red velvets and silks and brocades before Lavinia found one to her liking. When they left the linendraper, Marianne suggested another stop before returning home.

"The British Institution is only a short walk up the street. Would you like to see the preparations for the Reynolds exhibit? Your painting should be on the premises by now."

"I believe I would enjoy that," Lavinia said. "I know how much it would have pleased David."

She took Marianne's arm and they walked up Pall Mall until they came to the building that once housed Boydell's Shakespeare Gallery, and had been purchased eight years ago by the governors of the British Institution, with a bit of help from the Prince Regent, to become their main gallery. They stepped inside to find the current exhibition and sale of contemporary British art still in progress. Lavinia, who shared something of her late son's taste, turned up her nose at most of the paintings as they strolled through the arched doorways from gallery to gallery. Many of the artists were protégés of Adam and were quite talented.

Finally, Marianne was able to locate the gallery's keeper, Mr. Green, and asked if they might view the preparations for the Reynolds exhibit.

"I would be honored," he said. "The mother and widow of David Nesbitt are always welcome. Your painting arrived last week," he said to Lavinia, "and it's a beauty. And I cannot thank you enough," he said, turning to Marianne and beaming a smile at her, "for convincing so many of your friends and acquaintances to send their paintings. But who could refuse Mrs. David Nesbitt?"

"It was not difficult," Marianne said. "Everyone was willing to contribute."

"This exhibit was David's idea, you know," he said. "He'd been talking about it ever since the Institution was founded. You have done him proud, both of you. I know he would be pleased. Come, let me show you what we've collected so far."

They followed him through a doorway and into a large storeroom, filled from corner to corner with crates and with paintings, some of them enormous, leaning against the walls.

Mr. Green made a sweeping gesture with his hand. "And here is the fruit of your husband's idea, Mrs. Nesbitt. His legacy."

They walked through the storeroom looking at the life's work of one of Britain's greatest artists. It was a stunning collection, and it had all come together because of her husband. Marianne had never felt more proud to be Mrs. David Nesbitt. Her mother-in-law actually took her hand and squeezed it.

* * *

"I have concocted a plan," Lord Julian said, "and I am hoping you will approve."

Marianne's arm was tucked in his as they strolled through the park near the Serpentine. She felt quite smart in her new cambric muslin dress with a pleated bodice, a Russian mantle of Pomona green, and a matching cottage bonnet. She had dressed to impress Lord Julian, and she was fairly certain he had dressed to please her. He wore a tight-fitting black coat that showed off his physique to perfection, a red waistcoat with fine silver stripes, gray pantaloons, and gleaming Hessian boots. Marianne was quite sure they made the handsomest couple in the park.

The sun was shining and the air smelled fresh after the rains — a perfect setting for what she hoped would be the beginning of an understanding between them.

"What sort of plan?" she asked.

"You know of my home at Ossing Park?"

"Yes, of course." It was a famous stately home that had been written up in the guidebooks and featured in
The Beauties of England and Wales
. It was one of many properties that had come to the dukedom of Warminster over several generations, mostly through marriages. Ossing Park had become the favorite home of the dowager duchess, Lord Julian's grandmother. It was not entailed with the other ducal properties, having come from her own mother, and she was free to do with it as she pleased. Lord Julian had apparently been her favorite grandchild, for she had left it to him on her death.

"Ossing is very close to town," he said. "Only a fifteen-mile drive."

"The very best sort of country estate," she said. "Close enough to London that you could pop up for a day of shopping and a night at the theatre."

He smiled, and his blue eyes twinkled with amusement. He really was a very attractive man. "Close enough for a short house party, don't you think?"

"A house party?"

"Yes. I have made some small improvements that I am anxious to show off to guests. But mostly, I thought you might enjoy the grounds and the gardens, and I would love to show them to you. It would give us an opportunity to get to know each other better. If that is something you would like, of course." He leaned in closer. "Would you like it? To become better acquainted in a more rustic setting?"

Wilhelmina was right. There was no mistaking what he meant. Oh, dear.

A swarm of butterflies had taken up residence in her stomach. "I would like it very much," she managed to say, amazed that her voice sounded so calm when her pulse was racing. "But I doubt I will find Ossing at all rustic."

He took her free hand and brought it to his lips. "I shall leave that for you to judge. I look forward to showing it to you, Mrs. Nesbitt."

She chuckled. "If we are to tramp about your estate together, my lord, you must call me Marianne."

He smiled, and the look in his eyes was like a caress. "I am honored, Marianne. And you must cease my-lording me and call me Julian."

"Julian. I am very pleased to be invited to Ossing. You said it was to be a party?"

"I would prefer a party of two, but I daresay that would never do. It is a large house. If I fill it up with enough people, you and I can wander off on our own and no one will miss us."

"Is that what you plan to do?"

"It is my fondest wish. But there must be other guests, so I have taken the liberty of sending out a few invitations. I hope you will not be offended that I preferred to invite you in person."

"Not at all." But he must have been very certain of her acceptance if he'd already sent out invitations.

"Excellent. My sister, Lady Presteign, will be my hostess. I do not believe you have met her."

"No, I have not, but I look forward to it."

"I have invited a few friends, but I thought I would ask your help with suggestions for other guests. If you have friends you'd like to invite, please let me know and I will have cards sent around."

It might be a good idea to have the support of a few friends when she took this big step. Someone to share her excitement with if things went well, to commiserate with if they did not.

"I would be delighted if you were to invite my fellow Fund trustees. Lady Somerfield, Lady Gosforth, Mrs. Marlowe, and the Dowager Duchess of Hertford."

"I will send invitations to each of them. Some old family friends will be there as well. Lord and Lady Troutbeck are particular friends of my sister. And the Leighton-Blairs, of course."

"The Leighton-Blairs? Clarissa and her parents?"

"Yes. I have known them all my life. Our estate in Wiltshire, where I grew up, marched up against theirs. I have known Clarissa since she was born. I have also invited her friend, Miss Stillman, and her parents. And Cazenove, of course. And his friend, Rochdale."

Adam was to be there? Oh dear. She was not sure she liked that idea, having him so close by when she finally took a lover.

On the other hand, it might be a good opportunity to throw more temptation in Clarissa's path. "It sounds as if you might have uneven numbers, with so many ladies in attendance. The younger ladies might appreciate a few gentlemen near their own age."

She suggested a few young men who'd shown an interest in Clarissa, and Julian seemed agreeable. She also hinted that Eustace Tolliver be invited. Why should Marianne be the only widow to be merry?

Now, who might she invite for the other three?

* * *

Adam stared again at the invitation from Sherwood while his valet packed his bags. Was there no end to the nightmare of this business of Marianne and her lover? Sherwood would almost certainly begin an affair with her at Ossing. It was no doubt the whole reason for the house party. The last thing Adam wanted to do was to be that close a witness to her initiation into sexual passion. Especially since he'd experienced a hint of that passion when he'd kissed her.

But apparently Clarissa's family and Lord Julian's had known each other for years, and Clarissa was excited to go. "I look forward to a respite from town life," she had said.

Bloody hell.

Adam hated country house parties, and he did not look forward to being in close proximity to Clarissa's mother, who could be a dragon at the best of times. It might have been tolerable if Clarissa had been allowed to come alone, under the general chaperonage of Lady Presteign. He might have been able to make another attempt or two to break down Clarissa's reserve. But with her parents underfoot, he was unlikely to have a moment alone with her.

Instead, he would have the dubious pleasure of watching Marianne's love affair unfold before his eyes.

He had confronted her about it last night at Lady Durant's rout party.

"What are you up to?" he had said. "You hate country house parties as much as I do."

"It was Julian's idea, not mine." Her demeanor was a bit prickly, as it had been ever since their kiss. "I think it will be great fun."

"Great fun? Is this the same Marianne who not so long ago complained that there was never anything for ladies to do at house parties?"

"I daresay there will be something particular to interest me." She gave him a look that sent a rush of heat through his veins. "I am looking forward to it."

"Yes, I am sure you are," he said, countering her look with a soft stroke of his fingers along the bare skin of her upper arm, just above the top of her long glove. She gave the tiniest of shivers and stepped out of his reach. "All those long walks in the fresh country air," he said, "communing with nature, and any number of rustic pastimes."

"Indeed." She kept her distance but lowered her voice to a sultry whisper. "Any number of pastimes."

The air between them had grown buoyant with unspoken desire. Ever since that damned kiss, things had changed between them, despite his attempt at the time to make light of it. They had each tasted the other's passion and now it stood looming and huge between them, conspicuous yet unacknowledged. For he was bound to Clarissa, and Marianne was about to give herself to Sherwood.

Adam almost wished he'd never kissed her, for all the tension it created between them. But in his heart, he did not regret it.