Kathryn Caskie (31 page)

“That I did.” Grace’s eyes rounded. “She is so very youthful looking. Oh! I’ve been meaning to tell you. Do you recall the woman we saw Hawksmoor with at the theater the other night—that was
her.
Oh, what a jealous goose I was. But it was all for naught. Just wait until you meet her!”

“Then, pray, keep me waiting no longer,” Eliza replied, flashing a convincing smile. “Lead the way.” She gave a worried glance back at Mrs. Peacock one last time, then turned and followed her sister through the crowd.

When the clock in the great hall struck eleven that evening, Eliza was standing with her aunts in a thickly foliaged corner of the main room where they might survey the partygoers from a slight distance.

This suited Eliza quite well, for she had absolutely no desire to cross paths with Mrs. Peacock—or her daughter, whom she’d seen pecking scraps from the refreshment table like a starving vulture.

Grace hurried back across the room to them, bouncing with such exuberance that Eliza was sure her sister’s generously-powdered bosom would pop from her daring French-cut gown at any moment.

“I’ve done it,” Grace announced, her eyes were shining like cabochon sapphires. “I made it my mission, for your sakes, to meet every
one
of the patronesses. For you realize they are
all
here. And, well, I have done it! I’ve charmed them all. Can you believe our fortune? Almack’s doors will be thrown wide to us.”

“Splendid, sweeting,” Aunt Letitia replied. “How kind of you to look out for those of us not quite as fashionable as yourself.”

“You are very welcome, Auntie,” Grace replied, before wrinkling her nose. “Why are you all hiding in the potted greenery?” She gasped and brought her fingertips to her pink mouth. “Oh, dear. You are not planning something, are you? Do tell me you are not.” With great drama, she clapped her hand to her forehead.
“Horrors,
I already feel faint. You know I cannot abide any nonsense this eve.”

“Calm yourself, Sister,” Eliza said gently. “You will surely erupt in strawberries if you do not.” Then, a wicked urge overcame her and she raised a finger to hover over Grace’s cheekbone. “Oh my. I believe I see the beginnings of one right…
there”

Grace slapped her hands to her cheeks. “Oh no! Where?”

Aunt Letitia shot Eliza a warning glare.

“Oh, my mistake,” Eliza corrected. “Nothing there … at least not
yet.”

“My darling Grace, let me assure you, we are not hiding, as you put it. We are simply surveying the party from this vantage point,” Aunt Viola explained. “And, I must say, dear, I rather take offense at your assumption that we are up to something nonsensical. I ask you, when have we
ever
done such a thing?”

Eliza choked back an incredulous snort.

Suddenly Aunt Letitia spun round and gasped. “Heaven forbid. Do not move, Eliza. Do not even blink.”

Eliza froze, immobile as a glass-eyed shop doll. Seconds stretched miserably into a full minute, forcing Eliza to risk a tiny whisper. “Auntie, why must I stand here like a stone statue?”

Her aunt gestured behind them with a backward tilt of her nose. “ ‘Tis Lord Somerton—with the Peacocks!”

Eliza felt a trembling in her lower limbs. Her heart beat in double-time. “W-why is Lord Somerton here?”

“ ‘Twas your Grace’s doing, you may depend on that,” Aunt Viola told her.

“Auntie!” Grace protested indignantly.

“Well, gel, you know it’s true,” Aunt Letitia whispered back. “Your sister was not convinced of your course when it came to Lord Somerton, Eliza. And I must say, I am half inclined to agree with her.”

“Grace, how could you invite him?” Eliza hissed.

“I tried not to, really I did.” Her sister shrugged her shoulders. “But just before we left the house I changed my mind and sent over a footman with a personal invitation to attend. I made no mistake. Talk to him, Eliza, before my engagement is announced.” Grace’s golden brows fluttered like the wings of a finch. “That would be one hour from now, Sister. Hurry and tell him the truth—that I am engaged, not you. You’ll look quite the goose if he learns of
my
offer along with everyone else.”

A finger of dread skewered Eliza.

Heavens above, what was she to do now? Of course she’d known Magnus would learn the truth eventually. She only hoped for a little more time.

Against her better judgment, Eliza ventured a quick peek at Magnus, but by unfortunate chance, caught Mr. Peacock’s notice instead. He smiled in acknowledgment and started her way.

Oh, drat! Stay calm. Think of gentle waves. Summer breezes, singing birds … peacocks.

Odious, awful peacocks.

“Careful, dear. Your thoughts are leaking from your head again,” Aunt Letitia whispered to Eliza.

Lud!
To escape further mortification, Eliza clamped her lips shut. Within an instant, Magnus, along with another regal looking man and the three-member Peacock flock had joined them.

Mr. Peacock drew so near, that Eliza, locked in place by the shackles of propriety, could discern his every dinner course from his odorous exhalations.

“Oh, it was providence that we found you this eve.” Mr. Peacock bowed before her. “Somerton, here, was only just telling Lord Stanhope, that you, Miss Merriweather, are a portraiturist of unsurpassed talent. Quite the thing.”

The gentleman tipped his head in greeting. “I daresay, Miss Merriweather, might I convince you to accept a commission for a portrait of my mother? She’d feel so much more at ease sitting for a woman.” His eyes and mouth remained wide as he awaited her answer.

“How good you are, Lord Somerton, to recommend me.” Eliza offered him an agreeable smile, then turned to address Stanhope. “I do so appreciate your kind interest, but I fear I am unable to accept any commissions.”

It was true, she desperately needed the money. Indeed, would have leapt like a starving cat on such a meaty opportunity a mere month ago. But now, there was no time to complete a portrait, for her ship to Italy would set sail in a matter of days.

Eliza allowed her gaze to drift past the preening Miss Peacock to Magnus, who was studying her through narrowed eyes, hard and brilliant. Was it anger she saw there? In truth, she deserved his anger … and yet, at the same time, she did not. For her only desire was to do what was right by him, not to cause him pain.

Mr. Peacock frowned. “Are you quite certain you’ve no time to spare?”

“Oh, no. Not one bit,” Grace cut in. “For Eliza must replenish her own portfolio—now that all of her other paintings are gone.”

Eliza gasped with shock at Grace’s unexpected revelation, then cringed when she saw Magnus’s eyes widen in surprise.

“Oh, dear. I fear you’ve said too much, Grace.” Aunt Viola clapped her hands over her own mouth.

In a single stride, Magnus was suddenly before Eliza. His shadow cloaked her and suddenly she felt very insignificant. Powerless. Suddenly, the music, the candlelight, the people around her all seemed to fade away leaving only the two of them.

“What happened to yer paintings, Miss Merriweather?” he demanded. From the ferocity of his tone, Eliza half expected him to snatch her up off the floor and shake an answer from her.

His eyes were wide, but puzzled, too, as if his mind was struggling to resolve some vexing riddle. His breath came faster, harder. She could feel the heat of it upon her cheeks.

“Well?” he prodded.

“I… I sold them,” she finally managed to squeak, avoiding his gaze.

His expression grew thunderous. “What did ye say?”

“You might as well admit everything, Sister,” Grace said, jolting Eliza into reality once more. “It does not take a great scholar to figure out why you sold the gems of your talent.”

Eliza sealed her lips and shook her head.

“No?” Grace said. “Well, Sister, I am not so timid.”

As Grace walked to Magnus, Eliza reached out and grabbed her sister’s hand.
“Please,
do not do this. Not
here.
Not now.”

“Why not? I should think Lord Somerton deserves to know what you’ve sacrificed for him.” Grace defiantly looked Magnus straight in the eye. “Eliza sold her paintings at auction for
you.
Every last one of them—well, except the two she’d already given you. She directed Mr. Christie to secretly add her proceeds to the sum from your own property auction. My lord, do you realize what this means?”

Magnus was stunned, his mouth fully agape.

“Well, I shall tell you,” Grace said. She lifted her gloved hand and poked a single finger hard into the center of Magnus’s broad chest. “It means, my lord, that my sister sold what she held most precious to help you save your beloved Somerton. She has sacrificed her greatest dream
for you.
What say you now?”

In the throes of her impassioned monologue, the volume of Grace’s voice had swelled, and Eliza heard several gasps behind her. “Grace,
please!”
Eliza tried to turn away, but Magnus snatched her wrist and spun her back, forcing her to acknowledge him.

His eyes glistened. “Why, Eliza? Why did ye do this for me?”

Aunt Letitia gave a great snort and swatted him with her fan. “Why I should think the answer quite obvious, Somerton, you great ninny. Because she—”

“No! Do not say it,” Eliza pleaded. “For it makes no difference now.”

“Indeed, it does not,” Mrs. Peacock’s triumphant voice broke in as she wrenched her daughter forward and thrust her beside Magnus. “For you see, only today, Lord Somerton has requested Caroline’s hand in marriage.” A slow, slick smile eased over her thin lips as she plunged her poison-tipped words into Eliza’s heart. “Lord Somerton and our daughter will be married by special license in less than two days.”

A dreadful chill iced Eliza’s skin and her eyes began to sting horribly. If she did not leave at once, unbidden tears would disgrace her before the entire assemblage.

“Please excuse me—” she muttered, already headed for the door and the street beyond.

“Eliza, wait!” she heard Magnus call out from behind her. She glanced over her shoulder and was horrified to see he was coming for her.

At least a dozen people separated them, and for a moment, it was impossible to see Magnus at all. This was her chance to elude him, she decided. Her only chance.

Instead of fleeing through the open door, she turned and raced up the curved stairway for the sanctuary of the ladies’ withdrawing room. Near to the top of the stairs, she stopped and peered through the balusters just in time to see Magnus dash through the front door and into the night.

At five minutes until midnight, Eliza emerged from the ladies’ withdrawing room. Having adequately culled her wits, she needed to find her aunts and take leave of the celebration. Eliza glanced about the room, hoping to catch a glimpse of their matching purple frocks.

She must make haste. Grace and Lord Hawksmoor’s engagement would be announced at the stroke of midnight. And, if Magnus had realized his mistake and returned, he would see her supposed betrothal for the stellar lie it was.

Well, she did not want to be around if that happened. She would leave
now.
Before it was too late.

Her eyes scanned the room until at last she saw Aunt Viola’s mountainous snowcapped coiffure. Her aunt stood before one of the front windows with a small group of ladies, but even from a distance, Eliza could see that something was wrong. Dreadfully wrong.

Her aunt’s usual serene countenance was pinched and twisted with worry. Beside her stood Aunt Letitia, whose cheeks had gone scarlet with fury.

Eliza hurried across the room. As she drew near, she saw that the ladies flanking her aunts were none other than Lady Cowper, Lady Hawksmoor, and Grace. But her sister’s eyes were startlingly wide and her lips were trembling.

Devil take her!
What was going on?

Suddenly, Eliza noticed that not only was every eye in the ballroom focused upon her, but conversations quieted as she passed by. She raised her fingertips to her cheeks. No, no errant tears. She checked her dress. Nothing was amiss. Still, people stared at her in silence. Scores of them!

How peculiar.
For some unfathomable reason, she’d become the center of attention. This could not be a good thing, she decided, as foreboding crept icily up her spine.

Still, she continued toward her family, returning timid, reticent smiles to those who ogled her shamelessly. How she longed to tiptoe out the nearest door or leap head first through the front window—anything to escape this scrutiny.

Grace’s hands were set indecorously on her hips, and as Eliza drew up behind her, the volume of her snapping voice swelled. “She has done nothing wrong.” “I stand by my sister—no matter the consequence!”

Lady Hawksmoor caught notice of Eliza’s appearance and lifted her nose. “Thank heavens the announcement hasn’t been made. No one will know that our family was nearly contaminated by this scandal.”

With a chill look at Eliza, Lady Hawksmoor whirled around, giving her back to her. Then, with a swoosh of her skirts, Lady Cowper lifted her chin and turned away as well.

They’d given her the cut direct!

Grace gasped, but when the shock of the insult waned, she also raised her chin high, as if she were Queen Charlotte herself. “Come along, Eliza, Aunties. I will not stay here a moment longer.”

Eliza followed willingly, too confused to do anything else.

The four women stepped out into the night and the Featherton footman rushed forward. Aunt Letitia slapped her miser’s bag into his palm, whispered something, and sent him on his way.

Without wasting a moment, the footman dashed down the street, emptying the money bag into his palm. He shouted directions to the drivers and tossed guineas into their waiting hands. Amid the groan of shifting cabs, the whinny and clop of matched pairs, the coachmen somehow managed to crowd the fashionable carriages to one side of the road, allowing the Featherton town carriage just enough room to squeeze through.

At the door and windows of the Cowper residence, London’s sophisticated ton shoved, pushed, and argued with one another, like a hoard of fishwives on market day—all to get a glimpse of them.