Emily Hendrickson (4 page)

Theo felt like a cad, breaking the rules of etiquette. But then, he frequently did so with impunity. He had no justification for his behavior, other than overwhelming curiosity. But he intended to tell St. Aubyn about that frightfully good drawing of him. Trust St. Aubyn to be depicted as a lion rampant. Then he paused to wonder how the clever Lady Chloe would draw him.

* * * *

Chloe could not recall when she had been so angry. Really, that Theo Purcell went beyond what was acceptable.

“You appear flushed,” her grandmother scolded. “A lady never appears flushed in her face. I suggest you retire at once until you have calmed yourself.”

It did not occur to her grandmother to inquire as to what had turned Chloe’s cheeks pink with annoyance. Rather than explain, Chloe gratefully walked from the ballroom in the direction of the Ladies’ Withdrawing Room.

The hall was quiet when she made her way along the hall. At the entrance to the little anteroom where she had known the delightful, if brief, lesson in flirting from Mr. St. Aubyn she resolutely kept her face averted, her eyes downcast. She had no desire to know if her lovely aunt still lingered there with the reputed scoundrel.

Although, if he had been ordered to marry and set up his nursery, perhaps he intended to make her aunt his bride? Chloe hoped that was not the case, for even if she was related to the lovely Mrs. Hadlow, she did not like her in the least.

“There you are,” said a familiar voice, quite low and from the shadows of an architectural niche.

“Mr. St. Aubyn,” Chloe whispered back as though the walls had ears and might report to her grandmother.

“I intend to leave, but I had hoped to see you first. I do not wish you to think I have forgotten your predicament. Your aunt has not harassed you regarding what she thinks she saw, has she? Or said anything to your grandmother?”

Surprise rang clear in Chloe’s voice when she replied, “Not yet. But she is not related to Grandmama, you see, being the daughter of my grandfather’s brother. There is no reason for her to tell on me, for there is little love lost between the two families. She is a Maitland, not a Dancy,” Chloe concluded, as though that explained everything.

“Yet she has similar hair,” the gentleman mused, reaching out from the shadows to lightly touch one of Chloe’s curls.

“That is on both sides of the family,” Chloe reported back, thinking this a very odd conversation to hold with a gentleman reputed to be a dashing rogue. Never had she revealed so much about herself, or her family to anyone—and then to such a man! He had a kind of magic, she supposed, the sort that drew all the secrets from you.

“I wished to speak with you,” he began, then paused. “I must see you again. We have not finished your lessons, nor have I found a solution for you. It is unthinkable for you to wed Twisdale. On that we are agreed. The problem is to find an acceptable alternative.”

Chloe drew in an amazed breath. He did hold a concern for her. He had not forgotten his offer. Somehow she could not accept the opinion of the ton. This man was more than a scoundrel, if indeed he was that. Could a scoundrel care about a young girl being forced to marry a man with a shadowy past, a man she feared? Girls were compelled to marry that sort of gentleman quite often. Society accepted it, for necessity frequently required a melding of fortunes and families.

“I am to take a drive in the park with his lordship tomorrow at four of the clock,” Chloe revealed.

“Could you manage to escape from the house for a ride in the park early morning? You do ride?” he thought to add.

“Indeed. My brother saw to it that I was well taught by the head groom. I shall meet you in the park at nine of the clock tomorrow morning—if that is not too early.” She gave him an anxious look, aware that gentlemen often did not seek their beds until dawn.

“I intend to head for my house shortly, following a brief meeting with a friend. I will be there, near the Stanhope gate.” He melted back into the shadows and Chloe fled to the Withdrawing Room.

Was she quite mad? Could she really have arranged a meeting with St. Aubyn? Suddenly life seemed a trifle less dismal and her future appeared to have expectations.

“Ready?” Julian inquired of his friend Purcell.

“Think my dear mama will not take it amiss if I decamp now. Goodness knows I’ve done the pretty with all those chits who don’t take—the demure little things whose mamas have such hopeless hopes for,” he concluded righteously.

“See any with potential?” Julian asked while waiting for the carriage to be brought around. He had ordered it before speaking with Lady Chloe, so it ought to be here shortly.

“No. Well,” Theo amended, “did chat with an unusual dab of a girl, not the ordinary kind at all. Lady Chloe Maitland. Clever with a pencil. Did you to a tee.” He chuckled at the memory of St. Aubyn as a lion. “With all her money, you’d think she would have her pick of the crop, as it were. Grandmama’s compelling her to marry old Twisdale. Dashed stupid thing of her to do, if you ask me. Chit thinks of the man as a snake, as least she drew him as one.”

“You have heard the rumors as well, then?” Julian entered his carriage as soon as it drew to a halt, first instructing his coachman as to their destination.

Theo climbed in behind Julian and settled on the cushioned seat before attempting a reply.

“About Twisdale? Not widely spread about, but yes, I caught one. Suppose the old dragon don’t know anything about it, if it is true.” Theo drummed his fingers on the seat beside him, then said, “Off to the usual spot?”

“Indeed, although I won’t stay late tonight. I have an early morning appointment I have no desire to miss.”

No amount of hinting could wrest this intriguing bit of information from Julian. Theo did his best, then good-naturedly gave up. He’d only inquire so far.

The carriage drew to a halt before the elegant and restrained entrance to White’s, that most esteemed gentlemen’s club.

“Dashed pity you have to leave early,” Theo jibed two hours later when Julian rose from the card table.

“Indeed.” He had been winning steadily and hated to go. But the hour was late and he wanted to be alert come morning. “Tell you what, my friend. You take my place. Perhaps my luck will rub off on you. And…if I need to involve you in the business I discuss come morning, you shall know directly what it is all about.”

Leaving a mystified Theo shifting over to his chair, Julian ran lightly down the stairs to where his carriage awaited. Fortunately his coachman had an excellent memory and when Julian had instructed him to return in two hours, the fellow was prompt. Among other things Julian demanded of his employees was promptness.

Come morning Julian intended to slip from the house with no one the wiser. Just why he was being so protective of the troubled Lady Chloe, he was not certain. But every gentlemanly instinct had been aroused at the mere thought of that pretty little innocent being forced to wed Twisdale.

* * * *

Chloe hugged her secret to her all the way home from the Purcell ball.

“You were passable this evening, my girl,” the dowager declared just before her elaborate Town carriage arrived at her residence. “However, I expect you to be a trifle more gracious to his lordship when he comes this afternoon to take you for a drive in the park. Do you understand what I mean? Encourage the man. Even a chit like you ought to know how to flutter your lashes, how to please a gentleman.”

“Yes, Grandmama,” Chloe said in reply, wishing she dared to object.

“See that you do.”

The Dowager Lady Dancy left her carriage, totally ignoring Chloe. She bustled into the house and left her granddaughter to wander up the stairs to her room all by herself.

“It would be lovely to have one of my cousins to confide in,” Chloe said to a painting on the wall. “Dear, impetuous Hyacinthe, practical Julia, adventuresome Elizabeth, even the daring Victoria would be most welcome. How I envy them. They avoided the clutches of Grandmama and found their own husbands. Why, oh, why did my dearest mama have to marry just now?”

Chloe slipped quietly into her neat little room feeling a bit lost and rejected. New clothes—although she truly did not admire her grandmother’s taste—did not compensate for loving attention.

* * * *

Following a good sleep, Chloe felt a trifle more optimistic. Surely if Mr. St. Aubyn felt there was a possible way out of this quagmire in which she was stuck, she ought not give way to a fit of the green melancholy.

Since her grandmother did not leave her room before noon, Chloe was able to exit the house with no one the wiser save the scullery maid.

Chloe cast a concerned glance at the thin little girl. Her grandmother did not believe in providing decent rooms or food for her lower servants. Chloe suspected that the child slept on the stone floor beneath the kitchen table so as to catch a bit of warmth from the stove. If she owned so much as a change of clothing it would surprise Chloe.

“I will see to it that she has a decent blanket and pillow,” Chloe whispered to her horse once she was mounted and on her way to the park. Although she risked a scolding for interfering with the running of the house were she to help the girl. Grandmama did not approve of coddling servants, particularly a scullery maid. Yet Chloe’s tender heart found it difficult to snuggle in her bed—although it was firm, for her grandmother did not believe in softness for anyone save herself—when she thought of the poor child several floors below.

Her groom, a quiet, tolerant fellow, trailed behind her. He had not objected when she softly informed him that she wished to ride ahead of him, for she had someone to meet.

When Chloe reached the Stanhope gate she looked all around her. There appeared no one in sight and her heart sank, although she supposed she ought to have known that it was too good to be true.

“Good morning,” came a voice out of nowhere, it seemed.

Chloe whirled about in her saddle to see Mr. St. Aubyn coming forth from the shade of a large tree.

“You are prompt. I appreciate that.” To Chloe’s groom, he added, “I will take the greatest care of Lady Chloe. If you like, you may trail along behind us to see that I have none but the best of intentions.”

The groom nodded and waited until the couple had ridden off before following them.

“What nonsense this all is,” Chloe declared. “I should not have to scheme to avoid marriage with such an odious creature. You would think my grandmama would wish the best for me. It seems all she can think about is punishment.”

“I have given your problem a great deal of thought since I spoke with you last evening.”

Chloe gave him a surprised look. She had not expected to hear such a thing.

“And did you reach a solution?”

“My father insists I marry soon. He has no patience in the least. Why, I have years before I must wed,” Mr. St. Aubyn added softly.

“And?” she prodded when it appeared he had sunk into a reflection.

“You must not marry Twisdale. So…my thought is that we join forces. My father will be pleased, as you are the very sort of proper young woman he wants me to wed. And I believe my fortune and prospects are better than Twisdale’s. My family is older and quite respected. Even if your grandmother may have heard a tale or two about me, she cannot deny I am of the highest ton,” he said with careless modesty.

“Join forces?” Chloe said, her breath nearly taken away by this audacious offer—or whatever it was. “Precisely what do you mean?”

“Well, not actually marry, just pretend to have a deep interest in each other, an understanding, if you like. What do you say to that?”

“Pretend to show particular attention?” Chloe stared at him in utter astonishment.

Chapter 3

“It is utterly outrageous,” Lady Chloe declared. She paused, looking ahead through the bower of trees and off into the distance. “Do you think we might actually dare try such a thing?” she added, hope clear in her voice.

“Well, as long as you and I knew that it is all a hum, I suppose we might,” Julian said, looking over at the slip of a girl clad in the most dreadful riding attire he could recall seeing in some time. It not only fit badly, it was quite the wrong hue for a woman of her coloring. Rather than drab dark blue, she ought to have leaf green, he decided, with smart black braid trim and a jaunty little hat perched on those pretty auburn curls.

“You could not possibly think that I would care to hold you to such an agreement. I would never wish to compromise any gentleman and thus force him into a distasteful marriage,” she snapped back at him.

Julian liked her indignant response. It bode well for the success of their pact—should they actually proceed with it.

“If you want, we could wait to see if Twisdale really does ask you to be his wife. You would refuse him, I gather?” Julian chanced a look about them, observing that no one was close enough to detect their identities.

“Need you ask?” she said in a quiet voice. She permitted her horse, a reluctantly allowed treat dispensed by her grandmother, to pick its way through some long grass. When Julian looked at her she wore a troubled expression.

“You will see him this afternoon,” Julian reminded her. “Should he dare to offer marriage, try to contact me. If I see you, for I believe I will also take a drive in the park, signal me as to what has happened.”

They decided on the sort of signal, then Julian said, “I had best be off before we are observed by someone. Although if we are to proceed with the pact, I suppose we really ought to permit others to see us together.”

But he realized that if they were seen together, Elinor would not be pleased. He hoped she would have the good sense to lavish her attentions on another more receptive gentleman. He felt sure there were any number of men who would welcome the intimacy Elinor offered with such careful generosity. He wished to be done with her and hoped this escapade with Lady Chloe might do the thing. When the girl at his side chuckled at his remark, he recalled himself.

“No one would believe it otherwise,” Chloe joked. “A dashing man like you with an inexperienced girl like me.” She felt the oddest liking for Mr. St. Aubyn. Surely he could not be the scoundrel as so many claimed. A scoundrel would not care what happened to her. Even her own grandmother seemed indifferent to her future.