Emily Hendrickson (7 page)

Taking her grandmother at her word, Chloe backed from the room, then hurried up the stairs before any change of heart could occur.

Come morning her grandmother would be busily employed scanning the newspapers to glean every shred of news and gossip to share with Lady Sefton. As long as Chloe remained out of sight, she doubted if her grandmother would think about the matter again.

It was difficult to sleep, for Chloe kept thinking about that accidental touching in the theater box. She stroked her cheek where his lips had so lightly grazed. It was nothing more than skin, she reminded herself. Skin touching skin. Yet it had such a profound effect on her. She could not allow such a fancy.

Mr. St. Aubyn was not the least like the boys at home. He had such polish, smelled deliciously of spice and costmary—not the stables—and was so considerate. He simply could not be the scoundrel his reputation proclaimed. Scoundrels did not help green girls.

With that thought in mind, she drifted off to sleep.

In the morning Ellen touched her on her shoulder with her silent greeting of the day.

Chloe recalled what was to occur this afternoon and bounded from her bed with new enthusiasm for life. St. Aubyn would think of something. He had to.

But first she must write a missive to Laura. Could she trust her to remain silent about the assignation once she learned of it? With a studied look at Ellen, who was quietly going about her business of making up the bed, then placing the gown to be worn on the coverlet, Chloe decided she might as well ask. Penning the missive with care, she folded and sealed it.

“Ellen,” Chloe said some minutes later, “I have a letter for Miss Spayne. Could you be the dearest of maids and deliver it for me?” Chloe offered a shilling with the letter, knowing that Ellen would speechlessly accept both.

With a nod of her head, the maid took the letter, tucking both shilling and note in the pocket of her apron. Then she insisted upon helping Chloe into her gown of pale gray sprigged muslin.

Oddly enough the dress, intended to be nun-like in appearance proved quite different when worn. The double frill at the neck framed her face nicely and the demure puffed long sleeves flattered her slender arms. It was Chloe’s favorite gown. Ellen had found a pink silk rose to sew onto Chloe’s chip straw bonnet so that she thought she might be fair to being presentable when she went out this afternoon.

Somewhat to Chloe’s dismay, Laura wrote back that she would adore going to Leicester Square this afternoon and would present herself at Lady Dancy’s house at half past one of the clock.

Ellen did not question the outing, not that Chloe expected she would. Laura was another matter entirely. When she was ushered into Chloe’s neat room, she burst into question. With her pert, sweet face she strongly reminded Chloe of the drawing she had done of her friend—that of a sweet and cuddly kitten.

“What a mysterious invitation you sent me. I simply had to come. Fortunately, Mama approves of you as being a young lady of unimpeachable manners and integrity.” Laura’s brown eyes danced with mirth and she tilted her head to one side before she inquired, “Is it dreadfully tedious?”

“It is.” Chloe ignored the erroneous assessment of her character and wondered how best to explain their mission.

At last she said, “You know that Grandmama insists that I must marry Lord Twisdale.”

“I know,” Laura said, her voice devoid of expression but her eyes watchful.

“Oh, Laura, I am not perfectly mannered and obedient as your dear mama believes. I simply cannot marry that utterly odious man.” Chloe waited for her friend to react to such an outrageous pronouncement.

“Well, I wondered how you could endure such a thing. He is a complete toad.” Laura settled on Chloe’s favorite chair near the window and surveyed her good friend. “I fail to see how you may manage to avoid the fate, however.”

“That is what you must promise to keep as a secret. Will you? Cross your heart?”

Laura solemnly promised, then, eyes agleam, leaned forward in anticipation. “Tell me, oh, do,” she implored.

“I cannot go into the details, for it is too long, but Mr. St. Aubyn has taken pity on me and offered to help.”

“The Scoundrel?” Laura jumped up and began to pace back and forth on the rug, her dark eyes flashing with her surprise and consternation.

“Indeed, and I do not see him as a scoundrel. He believes me, Laura. He agrees that it would be a disaster were I to wed that dreadful man.” Chloe rose from where she had perched on the tufted bench to confront her friend.

Laura paused in her steps, turning to study Chloe. In a whisper, she said, “You mean he also thinks there is something odd about Lady Twisdale’s death?”

Chloe nodded. Then, with a glance at the mantel clock, she said, “We had best leave before something happens to prevent our excursion. Grandmama is off to Lady Sefton’s house, but I shan’t be at ease until we enter the Rotunda.”

With Ellen and Laura’s maid beside them, the girls entered a hackney summoned by the butler. The trip across London was accompanied by soft murmurs of, “What do you think he will say?” and “I cannot believe you are so daring as to risk this.”

They left the hackney, advancing upon the building with hesitant steps. They passed the little shop selling coffee and tea, tobacco and cigars, then walked to the entrance that was set back some distance from the street.

Inside, after paying four shillings for herself and the others, Chloe searched the area. She hadn’t realized how tense she was until she relaxed upon seeing Mr. St. Aubyn advance from the shadows.

“Good afternoon, Lady Chloe. Miss Spayne, what a pleasant surprise.” He half turned to speak to another person who had remained in the shadows. “Theo, my good fellow, why not join us? Surely you do not need to go to Jackson’s just now?”

Theo grinned and walked the distance with flattering haste. “Lady Chloe and Miss Spayne! The lure of Jackson’s cannot compare with this treat. Shall we?” He offered his arm to Laura, who accepted with apparent delight. Her glance back at Chloe was one of pleased conspiracy.

“That was fortuitous,” Julian said quietly as he ushered Lady Chloe up the stairs to where the panorama would be seen. It claimed to offer a comprehensive and most lifelike view of the Swiss Alps in full and glorious color.

“Indeed, but Grandmama insisted I have someone besides Ellen along with me,” she replied sedately. Then forgetting to be composed, she turned to him and said anxiously, “Have you thought of something? Anything?”

“I have considered your situation at great length.” Julian failed to add that he was approaching desperation himself. Elinor had been pressing him again, and he suspected she was quite willing to create a scene to suit her purpose if needs be. What that might consist of, he did not even wish to contemplate. However, he surmised that nothing would be beyond her capabilities as he had come to know them.

“And?” Lady Chloe prompted.

“I believe it would be a good idea if we proceed to appear as though we have reached an understanding.” Ignoring the gasp from Lady Chloe, he revealed, “You are not the only one who wishes to escape an unwanted marriage. While I have no desire to name anyone, there is a lady who is pressing her intent. I have no wish to marry her and my father would not be pleased at that union.”

“He would not be dismayed to see
our
names linked?”

Julian allowed a wry chuckle to escape. “On the contrary, he would think all his prayers have been answered. My father is convinced that an amenable wife would be the making of me.”

“I fail to see how we may accomplish this scheme in a short time, for you know that Lord Twisdale is urgently pursuing my marriage to him and Grandmama has endorsed his suit,” she argued, prudently ignoring his comment on a wife.

It was plain that she was highly dubious and Julian could not say he blamed her. He simply could not think of anything better. He had no wish to leave London merely to escape Elinor Hadlow. And he also knew a desire to help this young woman elude marriage to a man he strongly disliked—even distrusted.

“Theo has agreed to help us. He will tell everyone he was with us this afternoon, imply that we were quite taken with each other, that sort of thing. He’s rather good at implying things, actually.”

Lady Chloe turned a grave face to him. They had reached the top of the stairs and were about to join the others inside the Rotunda to view the spectacle. “It is agreeable to me. I would do anything to avoid marriage to Lord Twisdale.”

“Even appear attracted to me? How you do flatter a chap,” Julian said in his most mocking manner.

“Oh, Mr. St. Aubyn, it is not that at all, and I believe you know it,” she said with a hint of a smile. “Why, a plain girl such as myself could never interest a dashing gentleman like you in the normal course of events. It will cause a deal of talk, you know,” she concluded with a sage nod.

“I can weather the storm. Can you?” Julian looked at the fragile, heart-shaped face so trustingly turned to him with a faint pang in his heart. Was he doing the right thing to involve her in his affairs? Yet she desperately needed his assistance as much as he desired hers.

“I can.” Her face lit up with a smile when they entered the room with a light step.

Julian wondered why she referred to herself as plain. She had a piquant air about her and with that pink rose nestled inside the brim of her chip bonnet next to her equally pink cheek, she looked rather adorable.

He placed a protective arm behind her, guiding her to the first viewing place with solicitous concern.

“Oh,” she breathed, quite forgetting her dire circumstances for the moment, “it is more spectacular than I had believed.”

They slowly circled the viewing platform, studying the magnificent scene before them. “How do you suppose he achieves that lighting effect?” Chloe asked when they had completed the circle. “I vow the mountains appeared so real I could almost feel a chilly wind from them.”

“I’ve never heard. But then,” he said, turning to a topic he wanted to pursue, “you are also talented. I should like to see more of your clever little sketches. Were you serious when you said you had done your grandmother as a dragon?” He guided her along behind Theo and the lively Miss Spayne.

“Yes, for all my sins, I did. It was rather wicked of me, but she had just told me that if I did not accept Lord Twisdale soon she would put me in my room on bread and water until I changed my mind.”

Julian’s grip on Lady Chloe’s arm tightened as he contemplated a grandmother who would treat her own kith and kin in such a manner. His conclusion was that if he could, he would take Lady Chloe away as far as he might from the old dragon. Chloe was far too sweet to be forced into a frightful marriage.

They left the Rotunda, then took a hackney to Gunter’s for ices. For as Theo put it, “If you are to begin this thing, ‘tis best to begin at once.”

Laura smiled at Chloe while the gentlemen presented their order to the waiter. “Please do not worry. Theo told me about the plan and I believe it just might do the thing. Knowing your grandmother, she will feel compelled to alter her intentions once she catches wind of your gentleman admirer. However did you manage it?” she concluded in a wondering voice.

“Later,” Chloe cautioned. “How she will react is more than I can guess.”

Soon pineapple ices were placed before them and the four consumed the treat with relish, even the gentlemen, who could have pretended to be jaded and beyond such things. They parted shortly after that, but not before having been observed by two of the greatest gossips in Town.

“Remember, Theo has promised to do his best and I suspect Miss Spayne will assist him in the task,” Julian reminded her. “All that we need to do at this point is wait to see what develops. Believe me, I am as anxious as you are. I have no wish for a forced marriage, either.”

“We face a similar battle, it seems. And how would I draw your opponent?” she dared to ask.

“I see her as a falcon or other predatory bird,” Julian replied in a musing tone. “Allow me to see what you have done today.”

Lady Chloe hesitantly withdrew her little pad and offered it to Julian with that twinkle in her eyes. “You may not approve, sir.”

He studied the drawing and chuckled. “It is her to the life.” A drawing of the lovely Lady Jersey, portrayed as an elegant butterfly, charmingly illustrated the lady’s true nature. He turned the page and chuckled again. “Mrs. Drummond-Burrell as I live and breathe and as a hawk!” The haughty stare from the noble bird was Clemintaria Drummond-Burrell to a tee. The next page was blank and he looked at Chloe with questioning eyes.

“I cannot quite decide on the next one to do.”

“Do Emily Cowper next,” he suggested.

“As a lamb?” Lady Chloe said in a teasing voice.

Julian laughed heartily at this sally and then bowed to Lady Chloe. “You have a delightful wit, my girl. It would be a shame to have it wasted on Twisdale.” Julian could have bitten his tongue when he saw the laughter fade from her lovely eyes.

“We shall prevail, never fear,” he said to encourage her.

“I trust we will.” She was again the shy and worried young miss he had first seen.

Julian took her hand in his and smiled down at her. “Until later, my dear Lady Chloe.” He was reluctant to let her hand go. He was truly concerned for her. She seemed such a little thing to stand up to that wicked old woman.

“Until later, my dear conspirator,” she dared to reply with a mischievous look in her eyes that surprised Julian even as it delighted him.

When back at the house, Chloe awaited the return of her esteemed grandmother with an anxious heart. For once, the knowledge that little happened in London that did not reach her grandmother’s ears was comfort for Chloe. She wondered which of the gossips would reach Lady Sefton’s drawing room first, for most of the female half of the ton knew where the dowager spent Tuesday afternoons. Few had any love for her, and nearly all would be eager to lower her arrogance if possible.

Feeling a bit hungry and not knowing if she’d be sent off to bed without any supper, Chloe silently slipped along the hall and edged her way into the kitchen. Only the scullery maid took note of her.