Knaves' Wager (14 page)

The young bridegroom at her side must have wondered as well, for he'd got the worst of the bargain. Even now, at eight and twenty, Lilith was no beauty. As a bride, she'd been a carrot-haired, freckle-faced, skinny adolescent, inwardly awkward and unsure. Outwardly, she had been poised, of course, cool and perfectly mannered, because manners, poise, and self-control had been drummed into her from the day her grandparents had taken in the orphaned child of their only son.

They had not, however, taught her how to make her husband love her. That, perhaps, was too much to ask. His family had wanted the match because their youngest son was too expensive to keep any longer. Her grandparents, their own title spanking new, had wanted the connexion with ancient nobility.

Love in such a case was not to be expected — even if there had been anything remotely lovable or attractive about her. Yet she had wished. She had wished at least that Charles

Davenant would teach her how to please him. She could never express such a wish aloud, though.

Thus his rare visits to her bed were impatient and hurried, and his distaste only made the intimacy the more humiliating. When he was done, he left her hating her own body because it could never please him. Charles's gawky child bride could not compete with his London beauties. She could not even inspire affection. She bored and embarrassed him, and even drunk — as he inevitably was — he could not wait to be gone from her.

Lilith had not wept for her husband in years. Even at his death, her tears had been for the waste of the man he might have been. So young, strong, handsome… to dwindle to a frail shadow, weak, fretful, and afraid. She had wept as well because he'd left her no golden children to whom she might give the love he'd never sought or wanted.

Now she wept silently in the church after the others had gone, because Charles's friend had pierced the cold tomb of her heart, and revived the pain so long sealed within.

9

Early Monday morning, the much-harassed Mr. Higgin-bottom met with both Lord Brandon's man of business and the marquess himself. Two hours later, Mr. Higginbottom was able to inform Mrs. Davenant that terms had been arranged at last, and to remind her, with gloomy satisfaction, that she would now be obliged to practice the strictest possible economy.

The greatest of her expenses having been incurred already, Lilith had few qualms about her ability to last the Season. Shortly after, she would be wed, and money would no longer be an issue. All she would lose was her independence. She persuaded herself she'd already more of that article than most ladies.

For five years she had been free to manage her own affairs, without having to accommodate ahusband's whims. She had not to chase him down when major decisions were required. She had done it all herself, without interference — and in the end she had made a bad job of it, had she not?

Furthermore, there must be some gratification in having at last won this particular war of wills with Lord Brandon.

To Mr. Higginbottom she expressed her satisfaction. Inwardly Lilith felt as though she were now a bill marked "Paid," filed away and forgotten, and her victory was tinged with regret she despised herself for feeling.

By early afternoon, this matter took second place to a more urgent one.

Lilith was in her sitting room with Emma and Cecily, the two older women plying their needles while Cecily read aloud from
The Corsair
. That was when the box arrived from the dressmaker for Cecily.

"I declare I'd forgotten completely about the walking dresses," the girl said as she untied the string. "No wonder. I'm sure I have dozens already, though I never seem to
walk
anywhere lately. It is always — Oh, my."

She giggled as she pushed away the tissue paper. "Not a walking dress, I don't think."

Emma, sitting by her, turned pink. Lilith promptly rose from her chair to investigate.

Even the widow's marble features became tinged with colour as Cecily withdrew from the box two intriguing garments.

They were negligees. One was a maidenly pink. That was its sole connexion with maidenhood. It was of gossamer silk, its plunging neckline caught with cherry-coloured ribbons. The other was a froth of black lace, equally transparent.

"Not walking dresses, to be sure," said Cecily with a smile as she held the black one against her and modeled it for her two stunned companions.

Lilith, who had stood numb with shock, hastily recovered. She snatched the two garments from her niece and threw them back into the box.

"Obviously there has been a mistake," she said.

"I should say," Cecily answered, grinning over the note she held in her hand. "I cannot be anybody's 'Dearest Lise,' and who, I wonder, is my 'adoring Robin'?" She giggled again. "I have never seen such naughty night-rails."

"I should hope not," said her aunt. "This box will be returned immediately, and I shall certainly have something to say to Madame regarding her carelessness. The idea — to send such — such wicked things to this house."

"Of course it was a mistake," Emma soothed. "There must have been another package, and another lady has Cecily's frocks, I daresay."

"A
lady
, indeed," Lilith said half to herself. "That
her
lewd belongings should pollute this house, and
he
— " She broke off, recollecting her niece.

Cecily, however, was still studying the note. "But of course," she said. "It's Lord Robert's
chere amie
, is it not? Anne told me her name was Elise, and that she's French, and the family's in an uproar because he's been living with her for years and years."

Lilith tore the note from her hand.

"Anne should have told you no such thing. Ladies know nothing of — of these matters."

"Well, they pretend they don't, but they must be blind and deaf to be unaware, I should think. It's not as though he hides her away. Why, he was with her that night at the opera. I recall distinctly. She was very lovely and elegant. Frenchwomen are so stylish, are they not?"

"I most certainly did not regard her," the aunt answered uellingly.

Unquelled, Cecily continued, "I was much amazed, I'd always thought trollops looked like the tavern maid at Squeebles. Molly's rather stout, but I daresay she's the best the gentlemen can find in the vicinity when they're of a mind for that sort of thing."

"Cecily — "

"I wonder if Lord Robert's friend is witty and clever," the girl said meditatively. "They say that's why Harriette Wilson is so popular. Certainly she's no great beauty. Still, she has a very generous figure, so perhaps it's not all conversation. When the horses are bred, you know, the stallions — "

"Cecily!"

"Well, they do go directly to it," the girl said, turning her innocent blue gaze to her aunt.

Mrs. Wellwicke covered her twitching mouth.

"It looks rather uncomfortable for the mares," the niece added. "No wonder the gentlemen must pay — "

"Cecily, pray hold your tongue," Lilith snapped. "It is bad enough these disagreeable objects are among us. Worse still that they should elicit such unladylike, immodest speculations. You see how depravity taints whatever is near it. I shall have a servant return this package immediately. Furthermore, as of this moment you are to have nothings do with Lord Robert Downs. He is obviously not a fit person for an innocent girl to know."

She marched from the room, bearing the box well in front of her as though it were a chamber pot.

Cecily chased after her. "But Aunt, you can't mean it," she said. "It isn't his fault."

"We shall not discuss this before the entire household."

Cecily followed her aunt in silence down the stairs and into the study. She waited patiently while Lilith wrote a short note, sanded and sealed it, summoned a servant, and dispatched box and note to the modiste.

When they were alone, the girl tried again. "Dear Aunt, you know it isn't Lord Robert's fault the package was misdirected. It hardly seems fair to blame him — to cut him — because of an innocent mistake.''

Innocent?" Lilith echoed coldly. "Innocence does not purchase such immodest costumes for — for such persons. Innocence is not acquainted with such persons. And so you shall not be."

"Well, what on earth else is a gentleman to do? He must get his pleasure somewhere. That's how men are. I think it's far more sensible to keep a mistress than to take his chances in the streets and alleys."

"Gracious heavens, child, I cannot believe what I am hearing. Where on earth did you learn of these — these matters?"

"From Rodger." Cecily shrugged. "Though living in the country in a horse-breeding family isn't likely to keep me in ignorance, is it? Though I've never understood why I should be. How is a girl to protect herself when she doesn't know what to protect herself from?"

"She leaves her protection to her elders," her aunt said in awful tones. "Which is precisely the case at present. You will have nothing further to do with that man."

Further argument, as Cecily later informed her maid, was obviously futile.

"Still, I tried," she said with a sigh. "But I'm afraid Aunt Lilith is a bit irrational on the subject. It isn't logical at all. I'm sure half the gentlemen I know do far worse than Lord Robert does. Why, he's been with the same woman two whole years, Anne says. Other men are not so faithful to their wives."

"Mebbe when you've been a wife, you'll think different, miss."

"But I'm not a wife now, am I? At any rate, I certainly can't cut him without explanation. That would be monstrous rude, as well as unfair."

Accordingly, Cecily found her writing materials and immediately composed a note to the ill-used young man. When she attempted to hand the note to her maid, Susan demurred.

"Your aunt won't like it," the abigail said.

"Then obviously she'd better not know about it, had she?"

"But Miss Cecily — "

"Don't be tiresome, Susan. You know perfectly well how to get this note to him. You and Hobbs have passed along other pieces of news easily enough to his cousin."

The maid's mouth dropped open.

"I suppose you mean to marry one day, and wish to set something aside. I know Papa does not pay you very generously, so really, I cant blame you, can I?"

The maid stammered and protested, but her mistress only looking reproachful, Susan ended by muttering that Miss Cecily had always been a deal too quick.

"Well, I shall not pry into your private affairs," Cecily said magnanimously. "Everyone says Lord Brandon is irresistible, and of course he is dark and devilish-looking, so I collect you couldn't help yourself. Still, if you're not very discreet, my aunt will find out what you've been about, and

I daresay she won't be best pleased."

She thrust the note into her mortified abigail's hand. "So you'd better be discreet, hadn't you?"

The note reached Lord Robert some hours later, when he and his cousin had returned to dress for the evening. Dressing being a wearying business, they had elected to fortify themselves first in the library with a glass of Ma-deka.

The note was presented on a silver salver.

Lord Robert took it, stared at it a moment, then opened it.