Lord Devere's Ward (8 page)

“Perhaps it would be best if we returned to Bruton Street,” Quinn said.

“As you wish, cousin Quinn.” Kate, though jealous, was determined not to show that ugly emotion. She winked at Quinn.

“Stop it, Kate.” He handed her back up into the curricle.

She laughed.

“Wretched child.” Climbing in after her, he took the reins.

“I am sorry, my lord. I realize that my presence was, um, a bit
de trop
.” Kate fluttered her eyelashes at him, imitating Lady Bertha, though inwardly hurt because he called her a child. Nothing had changed between them. She must have been mad to imagine that he’d nearly kissed her.

“You are not
de trop
. Lady Bertha delights in shocking others. Please do not emulate her by winking at unattached males, or in any other manner.”

“Yes, my lord.” Kate’s heart felt bruised. She had thought that playing the coquette would bring her into her guardian’s good graces. She knew not what to do to make it easy between them again.

“Oh, the devil!” Quinn stopped the curricle and looped the reins, turning to take both of her hands in both of his. “Kate.”

She avoided his gaze. “Yes, my lord?”

“Look at me, my ward.”

She looked.

His mouth set into a firm, uncompromising line.

“You need not change for me or anyone, do you understand?”

She blinked, utterly confused. “I believe so, my lord.”

“Very well, then.” He released his hold on her hands.

Kate spent the rest of the drive wondering what on earth had happened between them. Quinn blew hot and cold by turns. And Shakespeare thought women were flighty and frail, Kate thought. Old Billy had it all wrong. Men were the inconstant, flighty gender.

* * *

Quinn had a fit of the dismals, an increasingly frequent occurrence since he’d met Kate Scoville. He glanced over at her as he reined his horses in at the Bruton Street house. The brim of that blasted hat concealed her expression.

Running into Bertha Staveley had been a piece of bad luck. He’d shared Staveley’s bed on a couple of occasions, and the lively young widow made it clear that she’d welcome him back. But since he’d met Kate, he’d lost interest, without making any effort to smooth the fiery redhead’s ruffled temper. He supposed he’d best call upon Lady Bertha. Yes, that was the ticket. Or p’raps he’d send ’round some flowers.

And why had he taken Kate to Hyde Park at five in the afternoon? What had he been thinking? Nan had been right. They’d drawn more attention than a Bedlamite at Almack’s.

Damn and blast. He’d taken Kate for a drive because he’d wanted to share her company, and for no other reason. He’d wanted to court her, like any other man…like any man other than her guardian.

He ground his teeth. It couldn’t happen again.

The next day was marked by a visit to Anna’s fashionable modiste, Madame Mirielle. Louisa was measured for court-dress as well as for any number of ball gowns and evening dresses. Kate ordered two gowns in the lightest silk georgette for her few evening excursions, as well as day dresses in a more fashionable cut than her purchases made in Sevenoaks. She did not know for what precise events she would wear the frothy creations, gathered under the breasts and festooned with lace flounces and velvet trim, but Anna assured Kate she would rarely be at home alone.

The first several evenings were spent with the entire family writing and addressing hundreds of invitations to the formal ball which would present Louisa to Polite Society. Kate threw herself into the preparations with vigor, finding her training from Miss Elizabeth’s School most useful.

But Pauline grumbled and groused. “The Honorable Louisa Anna Michaela Penrose! Lou, why do you have to have so many names?” She stretched her fingers.

“You have as many names as I do,” Louisa said.

“You’re the Honorable Paulina Tyndale Devere Penrose. What a mouthful!”

“This isn’t fair,” whined Pauline. “Cousin Kay and I shouldn’t have to help Louisa with her come-out. She won’t be around to help with ours.”

“Why, where am I going?” Louisa appeared genuinely astonished.

“Hopefully, daughter, you will be married and in your husband’s home, having his babies when your sister is presented,” said her father.

“Gracious! You make it sound as though I’m to be transported. Any husband I have will be a part of this family, just as I will be a part of his. I’m not going anywhere, Pauline.” Louisa poked her sister’s shoulder with the stem of her pen. “Besides, I thought you did not care for the thought of a Season and marriage.”

Kate saw Pauline wince as her parents raised their eyebrows simultaneously.

“Whatever could you be thinking, Pauline?” inquired her mother. “Pauline?”

Pauline laid down her pen. “It simply sounds so fearfully inevitable. I feel like Penelope waiting for Odysseus. Except I don’t know who Odysseus is.”

“That’s the excitement,” said Louisa. She glanced at Kate. “For myself, I can scarce wait until I fall in love.”

Kate flushed. She had an odd feeling Louisa saw more than was discussed. “Just make sure you don’t fall for the wrong person.”

“I don’t see how that can happen,” Louisa said.

She winked slyly at her father. “I know my parents take very great care that I never meet ‘wrong persons.’“

“That is no exaggeration,” said Pen. “I prefer that you do not even speak to the stable boys, advice I wish Pauline would take.”

Pauline grinned. “You know I have an interest in languages. How else would I learn cant, if I did not talk to coachmen and stable boys?”

Anna shuddered. “Please do not talk cant in London. That is the most sure way to obtain a reputation as fast.”

“I want to be a prime article. Why not begin practicing now?”

Her parents sighed, and Kate divined their thoughts with ease. Pauline would have to be carefully watched while in close proximity to the manifold perils of the city.

The butler opened the door of the library and announced the advent of the Earl of Devere.

Excitement fluttered in Kate’s stomach like a butterfly escaping from its chrysalis. She hadn’t seen Quinn since that ill-fated drive in the park. Drat the man, she’d even had trouble keeping him out of her dreams.

Dressed casually for the visit, her guardian wore a fitted coat of fawn worsted over trousers of cream pinstriped twill. His Hobys gleamed in the mellow candlelight.

“Uncle Devere!” Pauline squealed. Kate watched as Pauline seized upon her uncle as a diversion from the undesirable occupation, leaping up from her place at the large library table. Pauline hugged Quinn around the waist.

Kate said a shy “hello” and went back to her labors, observing him covertly.

Anna rose. “Quinn,” she said, and gave him her hand to kiss. After he bent over her hand, she added,

“Pauline, that’s enough. Get back to work.” Pauline swung Quinn’s hand back and forth.

“Not with Uncle here,” she said cleverly. “That would be rude.”

Her mother glared at her. Kate suppressed a smile.

“Shall I ring for tea, Mother?” Pauline asked.

“Oh, no no no no. No need to make a pother,” said Quinn, waving his free hand in the air.

Letting him go, Pauline yanked the bell pull. “It’s not a bother, really, Uncle Devere. We were just going to have tea. We need a bit of extra nourishment, since we’ve been working so.”

“And what is this?” Quinn advanced to the library table, and lifted his lorgnon to view the scattered sheets. “A ball for the Honorable Louisa Anna Michaela Penrose! And all these hundreds of invitations to be written out in one’s finest hand. Oh, how well do I remember.” He cocked his head toward his niece. “And you, dear Pauline, are not submitting to torture with good grace.”

“No, I’m not,” said Pauline. “I’m dreadfully bored.”

“Well, it may be that there is a special treat in store for a good little girl who helps her sister prepare for her season,” said Quinn. “And perhaps for her cousin, too,” he added, smiling at Kate.

His smile both warmed her and tied her tongue into knots. How on earth did he manage that trick?

Pauline didn’t seem to notice anything amiss.

“Why, whatever do you mean, Uncle?”

“Astley’s,” he said.

“Astley’s!” All three girls screamed at once.

“Astley’s Amphitheatre. The evening after these invitations are completed and sent out, we shall all go to the circus. With your permission.” Quinn bowed in the direction of his sister and her husband.

A footman entered with the tea tray as Pauline dashed back to her place at the table. “Jenks! What are you doing here!” she snapped at him. “We don’t want your catlap! Can’t you see we’re busy?”

* * *

“Look at that woman.” Kate nudged Quinn with an elbow and pointed with her fan to the other side of the sawdust ring. During the interval between acts at Astley’s, the family amused themselves by watching the passing throngs and commenting upon their appearance and manner of dress. “Her hat looks exactly like the cockade on the dancing horse.” Quinn pretended he needed a better angle to see the woman, creating an opportunity to edge closer to Kate. He liked her subtle lilac scent. “You’re right.

Those feathers are the same appalling shade of puce.” He raised his lorgnon to get a better look. “All of London comes to Astley’s, cousin Kay. You may expect to see many wonderful sights, but not all of them are part of the circus.”

Laughing, Kate leaned past Quinn to address Louisa. “Don’t stare, but you’re the focus of some very intent male attention.”

Quinn turned, recognizing the tall, dark nobleman. “Oh, good Lord! We’re in for it now.” Leaping to his feet, he stood in front of the two girls and turned his back on the stranger.

“Do move aside, Uncle Quinn. I can’t see.” Louisa tried to peek past him.

“Devere.” The man addressed Quinn, despite Quinn’s best efforts to cut him. “Please make me known to the ladies in your box.” Hawkes had no eyes for his ward, Quinn realized with a tiny shred of relief, but kept his pewter gaze fixed on Louisa, who stared back.
Damn. Louisa’s a beauty, all right
.

Unfortunately, his niece looked particularly pretty this evening in an ice-blue gown with a silver shawl.

Quinn winced as his family looked over Sir Willoughby Hawkes. His friend was a devilishly attractive gentleman, with a classically tall, dark and handsome appearance. Tonight, Hawkes wore impeccable evening gear. Rakes are successful with the ladies because they are good-looking, Devere growled to himself. That was all right, he supposed, as long as the rake’s prey was not one’s own niece.

Quinn himself had shared more than one night drinking and wenching with Hawkes, and didn’t like the attention the fellow gave Louisa.

“Hmph,” Quinn said. “May I make known to you Sir Willoughby Hawkes.” Anna drew in her breath.

Quinn continued glumly. “Sir Willoughby, m’sister, Lady Anna Penrose.”

Sir Willoughby bowed over Anna’s outstretched hand. Quinn noticed her reluctance, but his sister was too canny to give the cut direct to one of society’s most popular baronets just prior to her eldest daughter’s introduction.

“Sir Michael Penrose.” The gentlemen bowed.

Pen showed no unusual reaction; Quinn knew his brother-in-law took no interest in the gossip that was the daily bread and tea of the ton.

“My nieces, Louisa and Pauline Penrose, and my cousin, Kay Tyndale.” Quinn performed these introductions hurriedly, with the sincere hope that Sir Willoughby would be unable to separate one damsel from the other.

The ladies made small, formal curtsies to the stranger as he made his bow. Visibly transfixed by Louisa, Sir Willoughby asked, “May I call upon you tomorrow, Miss Tyndale?”

Kate gurgled with laughter. “You surely may, sir, but I do not believe that you truly wish to do so.” Sir Willoughby flushed a dull red. “I beg your pardon. I would be pleased to call upon all the ladies if allowed.”

“Certainly,” said Anna stiffly. “Devere knows the direction.”

Quinn watched as Hawkes bowed again, taking his leave with as much dignity as he could muster while Louisa favored him with her brightest smile. Sir Willoughby looked as though he’d been hit upside the head. Quinn hoped he did not exhibit the same idiotic expression when Kate turned her gaze his way.

After he had gone, Louisa exploded. “How could you! Kay! That poor man!” She fanned herself vigorously.

Both Kate and Pauline rocked with laughter. Kate wiped her streaming eyes with a lace handkerchief hastily pulled from her reticule. “Lou, I’m sorry. I’ll apologize to him tomorrow when he calls…if he calls.”

“I’m afraid he will.” Anna glared at Quinn.

“Whatever is the matter, Mamma? I thought Louisa is to encourage eligible connections. Sir Willoughby appeared most eligible, if a bit old,” said Pauline.

“He’s not old,” flashed Louisa. “Can’t you see, he’s everything that is gentlemanly?”

Quinn exchanged a concerned glance with his sister.

Pen said, “I know it’s exciting to have made a conquest so early in the race, my dear. But you might wish to place bets on more than one horse.”

“Especially when one of those stallions is Hawkes,” murmured Quinn. Louisa glowered at him.

A stormy outburst was averted by the timely interruption of the orchestra, which struck up a lively tune to herald the resumption of the show.

After the farce, they watched the fireworks. Their acrid scent battled with the combined smells of horses, sawdust and unwashed crowds as the Penroses left the circus; the performance was not over, but Pauline complained of fatigue.

Sir Willoughby Hawkes watched their departure.

He had conceived the most astonishing interest in the personal affairs of his old school friend, Quinn Tyndale. He had no previous notion of Devere’s involvement with his sister’s family, but as he watched the Earl usher Pauline from the box, handling the tired, cranky girl with a deftness clearly born from experience, he realized that his friend’s attachment to his relations was long, deep, and sincere.

Hawkes noticed a rough-looking duo watching Devere and his niece. Startled, he edged closer to eavesdrop.