Lord Devere's Ward (11 page)

Kate held her breath as Sybilla Farland smiled up at Bryan through her thick, dark lashes. Unlike Louisa, who Kate had noticed had already become spoiled with the attentions of town beaux, Sybilla was a bit out of the ordinary in looks. Small and dark, she had a tendency toward gruffness and plain speaking which Kate imagined would not stand her in good stead at stylish parties, where hypocrisy held sway.

As Bryan bowed over her friend’s hand, Kate could see that he was immediately struck by Sybilla’s large, dark eyes, which always held a glint of intelligence and humor. Her pale primrose taffeta set off her peachy skin and dark coloring. While Sybilla had no interest in fashion, she was nevertheless dressed in high style. Kate presumed that Sybilla had an excellent dresser; Sybilla herself wouldn’t notice if she were dressed in sackcloth as long as the apparel was comfortable.

Kate grinned as Bryan’s eyes shifted to Sybilla’s welcoming smile, then down to her bodice, cut low in the fashion of the day. After clearing his throat, Bryan asked if he might call upon Lady Sybilla. Visiting cards were exchanged as Pauline trotted up, in the company of their hostess, fresh from croquet and ready for luncheon.

“Lady Ursula, this is marvelous. All the desserts one could possibly want!” Pauline made a dive for the buffet table.

“Paul, stop acting the hoyden or Mamma will hear about your want of conduct!” Louisa frowned.

Pauline stopped in her headlong flight and hid behind Kate, red-faced with embarrassment.

Kate exchanged a speaking glance with Sybilla, who dabbed her mouth with her napkin, concealing her smile. “Pauline,” Kate said softly. “Let me make you known to Lady Sybilla Farland.”

Pauline removed herself from behind Kate’s flowing skirt and hesitantly came forward.

Kate continued, “Lady Sybilla lately attended Miss Elizabeth’s School near Bath, a select seminary for young ladies of learning.” Kate turned to Sybilla.

“Pauline has an interest in languages.”

“Indeed.” Sybilla bent her intent gaze upon Pauline. “Have you yet read Latin?”

Pauline nodded. “Yes, and Greek also.”

“Latin and Greek?” Ursula Damaris was visibly astonished. “When did young ladies of breeding take up the study of ancient languages?”

“Many young ladies of breeding have always been educated,” said Kate.

“Whatever for?” Louisa asked. “I have never understood this passion for book-learning you and Pauline exhibit. We are destined to marry and produce children. Of what earthly use is Greek?”

“You are one to talk,” her sister said. “Of what use is your skill upon the pianoforte?”

“To entertain my husband and guests, of course.”

“Nonsense! You do not practice Mozart and Bach for three, four hours every day to amuse prospective cicisbeos,” Kate said. “You study music because it pleases you to do so, and because you have true talent.”

Louisa blushed.

“Don’t deny it, Lou, anyone who has heard your performance knows it to be altogether out of the ordinary,” Pauline said.

“If that is indeed the case, Miss Penrose, we would be enchanted to hear you play after luncheon, if you would be so kind.” Lady Ursula sounded delighted to have hooked the latest favorite of the ton into performing.

Louisa appeared to regain her composure. “My sister exaggerates. My skill is no more than commonplace.”

Kate knew Louisa was modest but not truthful.

After lunch, the sky clouded. Lady Ursula called the group into her drawing room to again urge Louisa to play upon the pianoforte. Kate had seen her “cousin” at the instrument many times, but she never ceased to be struck by the change in Louisa’s demeanor which took place whenever Lou played the pianoforte. Gone was The Fairy; here was a pure spirit attempting to wrest something real and true from the inanimate ivory, wire, and wood of her instrument.

Kate listened with pleasure as Louisa played a Bach fugue with both precision and fire. When she finished, there was a short silence, then the room erupted in applause.

“I told you,” said Pauline. “She looks like her garret is empty, but there is substance underneath all that fluffy hair.”

“It’s your turn, Paul.” Louisa beckoned to her sister.

“Mine?” Pauline gasped. “You can’t be serious.”

“Absolutely.” Louisa gave Pauline her most wicked grin. “Since you and Kay have seen fit to puff my talents, the least I can do is return the compliment.” She turned to their hostess. “Ma’am, you must hear my sister and my cousin sing.” Kate’s stomach hit bottom. She felt it unwise to draw attention to herself, given her situation, but she had no choice. She knew that a becoming modesty was unexceptional but it wouldn’t fadge to refuse.

“Very well. Perhaps one short tune.”

“The Oak and the Ash?” Pauline suggested.

Louisa nodded, then struck the opening bars of the famous old English folk song. As was their habit, Kate took the melody and Pauline, who had a pleasing contralto, sang the harmony. By the time they reached the second verse, everyone joined in on the chorus.

One song followed another, and the hours sped by until the scheduled end of the luncheon at three o’clock. Lady Ursula made her goodbyes to the flock of young guests as a parade of barouches and landaus left along her graveled drive, heading back to Town.

“We shall have to invite her to some

entertainment of ours,” remarked Pauline to Kate.

“She is really very charming.”

Kate buttoned her pelisse. Although it was not raining, their open landau was chilly in the cloudy afternoon. “Yes, I enjoyed myself thoroughly. Oh, do get up quickly, sir,” she called to Bryan, who had abandoned the crowd of males with whom he had traveled to Hampstead in favor of accompanying the Penrose party back to Town.

“It’s dashed cold.” Louisa huddled in her cloak.

“Can we close the top of the landau?”

Bryan checked the hinges. “I believe the mechanisms to be stuck. No use trying to pull it out, that’ll just make it worse. Spring ’em!” he shouted to the coachman as he swung up into his seat.

As they headed back to London, the coach was forced to travel more slowly when they entered Edgware, for a small fair crowded its High Street. The coach threaded cautiously through rickety booths set up for the day, because carts displaying produce of farmers and wares of local craftsmen blocked any direct route. Kate saw colorfully dressed locals mingled with pickpockets and cutpurses come from London to pluck the country pigeons at the fair.

Suckling pigs oinked and chickens clucked while their owners bartered with purchasers.

“Look, Louisa.” Kate pointed at a dark blue tent, set off to the side of the fair, spangled with myriad golden stars and silver moons. A dark lady clad in colorful shawls and veils stood outside the tent.

The lady’s eyes met Kate’s as Louisa cried out,

“Oh, a fortuneteller! Do stop, coachman!” The coachman pulled back on the reins. The team came to a rumbling halt on the gravelly road.

“What foolishness is this?” inquired Bryan. “Miss Penrose, you cannot mean to tell me you put any credence in the cupshot mumblings of some grubby, dishclouted gipsy.”

She turned to him, her face red. “I’ll thank you not to criticize what you don’t understand, sir. Set me down at once.”

Bryan compressed his lips and huffed, the picture of masculine exasperation, as the landau stopped. At that moment, the sun came out and he said, “I suppose you will now say that the sunshine is a good omen.”

Ignoring him, Louisa grabbed Kate’s hand.

“Come with me, cousin Kay. You must want to know something of your fate, so far away from home.”

“I know of my fate,” said Kate, who nevertheless clambered down from the landau after Louisa. She did not want Louisa going into the dark tent alone. “I will marry some eligible here in London, or I will travel back to India and wed. There is no mystery.” The fortuneteller glanced at her, her dark eyes sparkling. “Oh, but there is indeed a mystery, my lady. You are not what you appear to be, and you will never see India.”

Louisa emitted a tiny shriek of delight. “See! See, Kate, she already reveals all manner of important things to us.”

The gipsy smiled. She had large, glittering eyes and a flashing smile. Her gravid body was hidden by flowing, exotic robes in all shades of pink and purple.

“You, first.” She nodded to Louisa. “Then you,” she said to Kate. “And what of you, my little elf?” she called up to Pauline, still seated in the landau.

“I don’t think so, ma’am,” responded Pauline politely. “It would be rude for us all to abandon Mr.

St. Wills.”

The gipsy laughed. “You do not believe, young skeptic. That is all right. You will grow up and become a woman, and then you will understand there are more things in the world than that which you see with your eyes.” She brushed aside a filmy cloth panel and gestured for Louisa to enter the tent.

Kate waited outside as the coachman walked the horses up and back, up and back. Finally, Louisa exited the tent, her blue eyes sparkling with mischief.

Despite her misgivings, Kate asked, “What did she say?”

Louisa refused to speak of any predictions, saying only, “Her words are a secret. But see if she doesn’t tell you of your heart’s desire.” She pushed Kate into the tent.

The interior was dark, lit only by short, chubby candles. Incense smoked in a burner in one corner, filling the air with the exotic fragrance of sandalwood.

The gipsy sat at her ease upon large pillows with a large bowl of water set before her. As she stirred it with one hand, Kate saw her fingers were long and shapely, with well-kept nails.

“I surprise you,” the gipsy said, in a lightly accented voice. She smiled up at Kate, who still stood.

“I was once a lady’s maid to the Duchess of Avon, but I earn more here. Please, sit.”

Kate sat on another floor pillow, unbuttoning her pelisse. She bent her head to look into the bowl, which appeared to contain ordinary water.

“What is this about India? You have nothing to do with India!” said the gipsy. “But have a care, young lady, for you are pursued. But the danger is transitory.” She swished her hand through the water.

“Those near you love you and will protect you from harm.”
Swish, swish.

Intrigued, Kate realized that the gipsy did seem to have some strange ability. “Is there more?” she asked. “Louisa told me you could tell me my heart’s desire.”

The gipsy smiled at Kate, then looked at her reticule. Removing a coin, Kate handed it to the woman, who looked directly into Kate’s eyes.

“You already know your heart’s desire. But the one you want will never ask you for your heart, though he would take it. You must willingly give yourself to him should you wish to attain happiness in this life.”

“Oh.” An image of Devere flashed through her mind while an unaccustomed languor pervaded her limbs. She breathed deeply, and the dizzying scent of sandalwood filled her head. “Is there more?”

“There is a great deal more. One near you will be in danger.” She spoke casually, as though predicting sunshine on the morrow.

“Bother. Who?”

“That I cannot see. But I see triumph, and many—

no—two journeys, or more. An ocean voyage, mayhap.”

“I thought you said I wasn’t going back to India.” The gipsy hooted. “You have never been to India and you never will. You mock me. Now, go!” Kate stumbled forth from the tent, having been given a great deal to think about. She clung to the landau for a moment, recapturing her balance and her serenity. Bryan helped her climb into her seat.

She was in a contemplative mood. Both the fortuneteller and Sybilla had provided more information about her guardian than Kate wanted to consider. Nevertheless, the words nibbled at her thoughts like mice in the larder.
Your guardian has a bit
of a reputation with the ladies…he’s known to be quite the
Corinthian… The one you desire will never ask you for
your heart, though he would take it.

The thought that she, Kate, would have to act firmly to take her own marital happiness was a new one. Perhaps she’d been naive, but she’d always dreamed she would be courted by some Prince Charming (or at least a viscount) and, when the time came, she would easily enter a joyous and untroubled marriage. Precisely what that marriage would entail was vague to Kate, but she feared it not. Her parents had been happy together, and she had never seen any reason to consider that an equally delightful union would evade her.

Now she had cause for concern. How was she to

“give herself” to attain her heart’s desire, while maintaining the standards of conduct which had been drilled into her from earliest memory?

And if Quinn would take her heart, with what would he leave her? A gentleman who had a reputation as a Corinthian and a rake might never change his habits. A loveless marriage was not within Kate’s plans. She knew she had pride enough to require loyalty, and she was prepared to give the same. Was this what the gipsy meant when she said Kate would have to “give herself?”

They drove out of the crowded fair toward London. There was little conversation. Louisa and Kate were particularly quiet. After Bryan and Pauline had stopped teasing them about their experiences in the fortuneteller’s tent, the journey was silent except for the crunch of the wheels on the road, and the occasional shouts of the coachman to the team.

As they passed through the new park which the Prince Regent had built, Kate saw a flurry of movement along the edge of the shrubbery just before a shot rang out. Louisa screamed, a high panicked sound. Clutching Pauline, she dropped, trembling, into Kate’s lap, who threw herself down over both girls.

“Are you all right? Are you all right?” Kate released Louisa and Pauline, then grabbed Louisa again when she saw that Lou trembled with fear.

“Yes! Yes! Only I am sure I felt the shot brush by my cheek!” Louisa turned to Bryan. “St. Wills?”

“I am not injured, Miss Penrose. May I see your bonnet?”

Louisa’s fingers shook as she untied the hat.

Bryan examined it. “I am sure you imagined the shot coming so close to your person. If you had felt the bullet on your face, it would have left a hole in your bonnet. See, it is intact. Drive on, coachman,” he called to their driver, his voice calm.