Letters to a Lady (11 page)

She was happy to sit and watch the audience move about. Ronald wasn’t much company, but the wine was excellent, and the break passed quickly. She noticed Harrup had taken Lady Selena to visit another box. The gentlemen were ogling Selena, and Harrup stood like a proud father, preening himself at his conquest. They certainly made a handsome couple, she had to acknowledge that much.

They returned when the bell rang and took up their same seats as before during the second act. At the next intermission, Harrup turned to Diana and said, “Would you like to stretch your legs?”

“You’ve already shown your fiancée off. I guess your reputation can bear being seen with me.”

“I was hoping to have some private conversation with you. I’ve discovered something of interest that I don’t wish Lady Selena to hear.

“Excuse us. Miss Beecham wants to get some exercise,” Harrup said to his fiancée before leaving.

Lady Selena breathed a sigh of relief and smiled at Ronald as the others left.

“She’s here,” Harrup said, as soon as they were out of the box.

“Who is? Mrs. Whitby?” Diana asked. Her eyes sparkled with interest.

“Yes, I spotted her at intermission. She’s not with Markwell, but he’s here, too. I expect they’ll meet now. I’m sure she saw me—she knows where my box is—but she didn’t once glance in my direction.”

“She’s ashamed to,” Diana told him.

“I really begin to wonder if you’re right about her. Now would be the perfect time to slip into her rooms and get the letters,” he suggested.

“She wouldn’t have left them there after what happened to Markwell’s,” Diana said. “Some people learn by experience.”

“Thank you for that barb, but I never had the experience of being blackmailed before.”

They ordered the wine and strolled through the throng, looking for their quarry. Both Mrs. Whitby and Markwell were spotted, but not together. Harrup knew it was ineligible to accost a lightskirt when he was accompanied by a young lady, but he tried to catch Mrs. Whitby’s eye. After five minutes he knew she was purposely avoiding him and assumed a guilty conscience was the reason.

“We might as well go back to our box,” he suggested. “I shouldn’t abandon Selena for too long.”

“She’s very beautiful,” Diana said.

“Every head in the place turned when we were on the stroll. She’s a little shy with strangers, of course. That’s why she hasn’t said much.”

“Strangers! Surely you are not a stranger to her.”

“I am, practically. I’ve never been alone with her except when I popped the question.”

“Then you don’t actually—I mean—it wasn’t a question of being violently in love?” she asked hesitantly.

“Any man with an eye in his head would love her. Why, even Ronald was wagging his tail like a puppy. You must warn him not to cut me out.” He laughed, and they returned to the box. Ronald had taken the seat beside Lady Selena, but he jumped to his feet immediately and nearly capsized Diana.

Harrup smiled at the unexpected animation on his fiancée’s lovely face. For the first time he heard her laugh. A beautiful, gentle, silver tinkle. “Discussing the play?” he asked. “Marvelous, is it not?”

“Mr. Beecham was telling me about a novel,” Lady Selena said.

Ronald started guiltily and began bustling about to show Diana her seat. For the next act he didn’t even look at Selena or think of anything else but her. Diana whispered that Mrs. Whitby was present and pointed her out to Ronald, but he was so shortsighted he could barely see the print on a page and had no notion what he was looking at. His mind was occupied with other things. Harrup was a pretty raffish person to be offering marriage to a sweet, innocent girl like Lady Selena. Already that shy bud had let slip that her papa had arranged the match—she was sure she would come to care for Harrup in time, she had said wistfully, but her eyes told another story. She had agreed with him that Horace knew what he wrote when he wrote the phrase, “The half of my own soul.” Their eyes had met and held when he quoted it. She had seen the hair lift on her arms.

Ronald felt he ought to rescue her and appreciated the irony of his position. He was dependent on the good offices of the man who was going to marry the woman he loved. There was no doubt in his mind that what he felt for Selena was true love. He felt weak, his head floating high above his body. He knew instinctively, too, that Lady Selena didn’t love Harrup. When she looked at Harrup, her eyes were like the eyes of a doe with the muzzle trained on her. It was a situation worthy of Mr. Scott.

He felt vaguely that some action was called for on his part to rescue Lady Selena and knew in his bones that he would do nothing. Virgil knew something about human nature, too. “We are not all capable of everything,” he wrote. “Deep in her breast lies the silent wound” was another insight. But it was in his breast the wound would cut deepest when he stood outside St. George’s on Hanover Square in a few months and watched with tears in his heart while his beloved married Lord Harrup.

Then he glanced at his sister. His papa had remarked more than once that Di should have been his son, for she was the real man of the family. She was very good at practical problems. As ignorant as a swan about anything that really mattered, of course—unlike Selena, who showed a real appreciation for the classics. Still, Di had rescued Harrup’s letters. Now she must help him rescue Lady Selena.

Before Ronald was dropped off that night, he had arranged with the ladies that he and Diana would call on Lady Selena the next day to deliver
Waverley
. Harrup, the scoundrel, hadn’t a word to say against it. In his colossal arrogance he didn’t recognize the threat of a boy in love.

Chapter Six

Ronald labored long with his cravat and not at all with his conscience as he prepared for the visit to Lady Selena the next day. At Belgrave Square, Diana pondered how she would tell him she still hadn’t broached the matter of his position to Harrup. She had suggested a glass of wine to Harrup after their arrival home the evening before, hoping to find an opportunity to do it. Harrup, however, had not been in a good mood. He would speak of nothing but Laura Whitby’s snubbing him at the play and what that augured.

“The appointment is to be made any day now,” he worried. “If she’s come to London to make mischief for me, why the deuce doesn’t she make her demands and have done with it?”

“Perhaps you were right all along,” Diana said, “and she has no notion of bothering you. You’ll have to call on her. It is the only way to set your mind at rest.”

“I’ll do it tomorrow,” he decided.

Still trying to nudge her host into a good mood, Diana tried another tack. “Lady Selena is extremely beautiful. Your boasting didn’t do her justice.”

His manner relaxed visibly. “A truly charming girl—quiet and well behaved, too.”

“I noticed heads turning at the theater,” Diana said.

“On this occasion, I believe the cats were staring at you, wondering who you might be. A new lady in town always generates a certain interest.”

“Especially when she appears under the auspices of Lord Harrup, I daresay. They probably took me for Lady Selena’s doyenne.”

Harrup studied her, smiling, and said, “And Ronald for your father. The boy was quite bowled over with Selena, was he not? She seems well disposed toward him as well. I never saw her so animated before. I would be grateful if you and Ronald would entertain her a little while you’re in town. I ought to do my own courting, but till the appointment is made, I mean to show Eldon
et al
my nose is glued to the grindstone. One thing this Whitby affair has shown me is the value of having a young, innocent bride. I would never have to fear Selena is cutting up any rigs behind my back.”

“I shall undertake to keep a tight rein on Ronald,” Diana offered.

Was this the moment to ask her favor? She was on the point of doing it when a much better idea occurred to her. Would Lady Selena not make an unexceptionable seconder in this affair? She seemed genuinely fond of Ronald. After a few days to further the acquaintance, Diana would mention Ronald was on the lookout for work, and Harrup would have two ladies pestering him. He’d give in to gain peace.

Once she had decided to delay her request, there was no further reason to remain downstairs, and she set her empty glass aside. “It was a lovely evening, Harrup. Thank you so much for taking Ronald and me to the play.”

“You’re not leaving already?” he asked, surprised. “We’ve hardly seen each other today.”

“We had breakfast and dinner together. We were together at the play all evening. Short of gluing my nose to the grindstone beside yours, we could hardly have been more together if we were chained.”

“I mean alone together,” he said unthinkingly. “It’s nice to have a mature lady to talk to about things. In London the mature ladies are either gossipy cats or hoping to make you their new cicisebeo. And with the young ladies, of course, a gentleman has to walk on eggs. A man couldn’t have a rational conversation with any of them.”

“By which you mean an improper one, I suppose?” she quizzed.

“I mean both, or either. I do have a mind you know, as well as—”

“Yes, I know,” she said quickly, with a frightened look at him.

“As well as emotions, Miss Beecham. I am not quite so farouche as to call a spade a spade—even to a country girl who knows a thing or two about spades.”

“I am happy to hear you do observe some of the proprieties.”

Eager to keep him in tune, Diana accepted another glass of wine. They talked of London and the country, of Mrs. Whitby and Lady Selena and Peabody, and of human nature in general, like old friends, laughing much and complaining not a little of petty annoyances. After half an hour Diana was tired and said so bluntly.

“I’ve prosed your ear off, and here you’ve been wanting all the time to get your beauty rest. You should have told me so, Di.”

“Not at all. I’m not so obliging as you, Harrup. You are held up as a pattern card of obligingness at the Willows, you must know. Especially after you’ve just given Peabody one of those nice fat envelopes. Take one when you visit Mrs. Whitby and you’ll turn her up sweet. I expect she has drawers full of diamond bracelets. Cash will save her a trip to the pawn shop.”

“Me, too,” he answered, and laughed.

“Surely your pockets aren’t to let? You wouldn’t have to lay your watch on the shelf, would you?”

“No, no. When a lady is out of favor, secondhand jewelry is good enough for her.”

“That’s how you treat your erstwhile friends, is it?”

“Only when they’ve mistreated me first.”

Diana rose and Harrup got up to accompany her to the staircase. “It’s you I should have thought of marrying,” he said facetiously. “You would be a comfortable wife. You wouldn’t cut up stiff at a husband’s extramarital flirtations.”

She gave him a sapient stare. “How little you know me! I would disembowel any husband of mine who dared to look at another lady. Why do you think I’m still single? I could have had a marriage of convenience. Like all ninnyhammers, I am holding out for a grand passion. I don’t want to miss the anxiety of waiting home alone, the loving clatter of crockery over my husband’s head, the pangs of jealousy, the agony of heartbreak.”

“A grand passion?” he asked mockingly. “I have no personal experience in that area. I believe that, like happiness, you will find it illusory. You should stifle your romantic notions and settle for a good, comfortable marriage of convenience.”

She shook her head. “Poor Harrup. And poor Lady Selena.” She went slowly upstairs, sad for her friend. Harrup may be beyond romance, but Lady Selena—would she settle for a marriage of convenience?

Harrup returned to the saloon for another glass of wine. As he sat on alone, he considered her words. They were the naive notions of maidenhood, he thought. A city gentleman who had seen innumerable friends marry for love, only to endure the concomitant jealousies and agonies Di had mentioned, knew the wiser course.

It did seem wrong that a fiancé felt no thrilling surge when he was alone with his beautiful bride-to-be, though. Selena was more enjoyable in company. He almost dreaded those looming periods when he must be alone with her, dragging a few words from her like a tooth drawer pulling recalcitrant teeth. No doubt she’d overcome her shyness in time.

Diana slept in the next morning after her late night and missed Harrup at breakfast. Some uneasiness hung about her as she ate alone. She worried about Mrs. Whitby and the letters; she was sad to consider Harrup’s approaching marriage of convenience; she pondered Ronald’s position, and spared not a single worry that her brother was planning to steal Lady Selena away. Ronald’s passionate outburst when he arrived came as a complete shock to her.

He looked unlike himself, his eyes burning with intensity. “Di, what are we going to do about Lady Selena?” he demanded.

“Harrup suggested we entertain her a little while he is busy at work,” she replied. “We might take her to Richmond Hill or for drives, shopping—that is the sort of thing to amuse her, I think.”

“I don’t mean that!” Ronald scoffed, eyes blazing in wrath. “How can we rescue her from Harrup?”

Diana stared, speechless for a moment. “What on earth are you talking about?” she demanded.

“She doesn’t love him! She told me so—oh, not in words exactly, but the way she looks at him. Didn’t you see the fear and revulsion in her eyes?”

“No, nor did I hear it in her voice. Of course, she hadn’t two words to say for herself.”

“Her father arranged the match. She hardly knows Harrup.”

“Then I think she will be pleasantly surprised when she comes to know him. He will be a considerate, undemanding husband.”

“The man’s a libertine,” Ronald asserted forcefully. “Only look what he has put us through in the few days you’ve been here. Sent you calling on a lightskirt.”

“He didn’t send me! He suggested Peabody send a footman. We went of our own accord.”

“Writing that woman love letters! Getting me arrested.”

“And bailing you out! I hope you haven’t discussed any of this with Lady Selena?” she asked sharply.