Lord Haversham Takes Command (8 page)

“It is quite true, my darling,” her mother piped in before George, who had turned red with rage, had a chance to speak. “You are sure to meet with little competition. Not only shall you outshine the other debutantes this year, you are bound to be outnumbered by the young men, the occupants of this carriage a case in point. The years prior to your birth were replete with baby boys, or so it seemed. I warrant there will be half a dozen young men laying claim to the hand of each young lady.”

“Mother,” Adrian implored, “you make it sound as if Mira were a broodmare rather than a young lady
en route
to her first ball. Furthermore, the thought of just such a conversation going on in the carriages of young ladies all over London, also
en route
to this ball, causes me to quake in my boots. Should I consider a compliment a declaration? Should I only request a dance from those young ladies I wish to regard me as a suitor? Am I even now to weep and gnash my teeth with the knowledge that young ladies of marriageable age are few and far between and I should therefore plan my strategy accordingly?”

At this final utterance, Stephen could no longer contain his mirth. “As if a one of them would let you near! Why should they look to you when your vastly more eligible older brother stands at the ready to sweep them off their feet?”

“Oh dear,” their mother mused. “I hadn’t considered either of you old enough to become serious about finding a wife as of yet. It seems like only yesterday the both of you were in leading strings. A young lady wants an older man, one slightly more mature and definitely established, for a husband. What is more, should she be so foolish as to let her heart wholly rule her head, she doubtless has a father to set her straight.”

“Is that how you ended up with Papa?” her eldest twitted her. “With no father to see you wed to one of his cronies, you were allowed to marry for love, is that not so?”

“That is neither here nor there,” their mother insisted. “Besides, my Grandaunt Regina was far more formidable than
anyone’s
father. It was her dearest wish to see your papa and I married. We were fortunate in that we suited one another and that your father had the means to support me in spite of his youth.”

“Suited? Is that what you call it?” Adrian hooted. “If that’s the case, things seem to have deteriorated into all-out infatuation since.”

“Mama and Papa were madly in love!” Mira exclaimed.

“Not at the outset,” her mother replied, “but certainly by the time he offered marriage, there was little doubt as to how either of us felt. That being said, he had more than a few pennies to rub together at the time. Love is a powerful motivator, but one can hardly live on it.”

George’s high coloring had receded, but Mira could sense his agitation despite the distance forced between them by the hoops of her skirt. She hadn’t any idea what it was about their topic of conversation that offended him but she knew that it hardly mattered. They were bound to disagree on almost everything.

Memories of Harry, recent ones, began to fill her mind, in particular the expression on his face just that morning when she had so callously denied him a seat by her side in the carriage. A shaft of longing pierced her heart with such suddenness, it was all she could do not to cry out. She took up her fan and began to wield it with a vengeance. Perhaps if the draft became stiff enough, it would blow away her desire to see Harry, at least for the time being.

Upon their arrival at the party, they were ushered into the ballroom of the enormous house, quite out of the usual for London where most families of quality made do with a townhouse squeezed between two others and across the square from a row of the same. The event proved to be a massive crush, and Mira wondered how she was expected to spot anyone at all whatsoever. Still, as she was led on George’s arm to meet her host and hostess, Mira searched for Harry as diligently as she dared.

“Keeping an eye out for Lord Haversham, are you?” George observed.

Surprised at his acuity, Mira felt at a loss for a reply.

“You won’t find him here,” he added.

“Why ever not?” Mira demanded. “He is as likely to have been invited to this event as you and I.”

“True,” George said shortly. “Is that not his mother languishing on the arm of her gallant husband just this side of the fireplace?”

Mira managed to spot Lord and Lady Avery in spite of not equaling George’s height. “Certainly with his parents in attendance, there is no reason why he should not be also,” she said in a tone of voice designed to hide her burgeoning delight.

“Ah, but the tiger and the cub are not created equal,” George mused as he took a glass of champagne from the platter of a passing footman.

Mira drew her arm from that of her escort and refused to take another step with him. “By that I suppose you mean that Viscount Haversham is inferior to his father, the Earl of Avery?”

“Not at all! I only meant that
Bertie
, as he insists on being called, has better things with which to occupy himself.”

Mira felt crushed. Harry
did
have better things to do. Hadn’t he told her as much? And she hadn’t believed him. “George, what do you mean? You must tell me!”

“I must?” he drawled. “Only it would seem I have better things to do as well.”

Mira watched in disbelief as her self-imposed future husband turned on his heel and walked away. Her mother and brothers were nowhere to be seen so she counted it a blessing when Lord and Lady Avery approached, the Countess’s hands poised for clapping.

“My darling girl!” Lady Avery gushed. “How good it is to see you with your hair up and your skirts let down at last! If only Herbert were here to see you. I know he would bespeak every dance. Don’t you think so, my beloved?” she asked, turning to her husband.

“Yes, my flower, she is almost as lovely as yourself when you were of an age.”

“Oh, Eustace,” Lady Avery said with a bat of her fan to his arm. “You make it sound as if I were nearly old enough to be her mother!” The fact that she was possessed of a son three years older than Mira seemed to utterly escape the Countess.

“Lady Avery, I am so pleased to see you as well. Is Bertie to join us tonight?” Mira asked whilst congratulating herself on having remembered to use Harry’s new name. “There was something I most particularly wished to discuss with him.”

“Bertie who?” Lord Avery asked.

Mira wondered if perhaps he were poking fun at his son, but he seemed genuinely baffled. “I do beg your pardon!” Mira amended. “It is Harry of whom I speak.”

“Oh! Is Herbert in town?” Lady Avery asked, her eyebrows shooting up in surprise so far as to disappear under her preposterous turban. She turned to her husband who, as always, waited patiently at her elbow in the case he would be needed to assist his wife or, more often than not, counter the effects of her actions on her surroundings.

“Yes, my love, do you not recall? His request for permission to attend the Crenshaws on their journey was prettily done, if I do say so myself,” Lord Avery remarked.

“Well, if you shan’t, Eustace, who shall?” With that puzzling observation, Lady Avery returned her attention to Mira, her lips a thin line of disapproval. “Where, then, is my son? I suppose you believe you can keep him from me, but for how long? Eventually he will need to eat and to sleep and … and …: she continued, a wild look in her eye, “and to read the newspaper! When he does, it will be at my door he is scratching, I tell you!”

Mira, somewhat acquainted with Lady Avery’s fits and starts, refused to be led down the garden path by such spurious conversation. “I most humbly beg your pardon,” Mira ventured, “but Harry left us this morning.” She wisely chose to leave out the information that Harry hadn’t actually joined them until midway through their journey. “We haven’t seen him since. I was rather hoping you might tell me where he is.”

“In that case,” Lady Avery cooed as if there had not been a cross word between them, “he should be here at any moment. Of this I am most certain. He would not wish to miss your very first ball, my darling girl!”

But Harry did not come.

Chapter Eight

The second morning since his arrival in London, Harry stood on the step of Haversham House, feeling as if he were embarking on his execution rather than an audience with his mother. He was glumly aware he had been expected a full forty-eight hour prior, and the mere three hours of sleep he had enjoyed after his adventure at the Pagoda did nothing to improve his outlook. He hoped his mother would be in one of her sunnier moods; the road ahead would be difficult enough, even with her cooperation.

As he hadn’t a key, he was forced to ring the bell, a circumstance which meant his mother would be alerted as to the presence of a guest. This would make it impossible for him to submit to the temptation to duck into his own chamber in order to catch up on his sleep. The missing paper must be obtained from George before nightfall, however, and Harry needed his mother’s help in so doing.

“Herbert!” his mother cried when he appeared at her side, his expression appropriately chastened and apologies on the tip of his tongue. “Have you any idea how anxious I have been?” she cried.

Harry looked about and noted a bowl containing water and a wet cloth, a variety of elixir bottles displayed amongst the bibelot on the sofa table, and more than the usual number of pillows arranged under his mother’s head which was topped with a lace cap, absurdly askew.

“I can see my absence has caused you considerable distress,” he soothed as he plumped the pillows, tidied the bottles, and rang for the butler to bring a fresh cloth and bowl of water. “However, I was not at liberty to come to you before now and as I had no idea as to when I might be able to wait on you, I felt it best to remain silent until I might bring you the news in person,” he said in a light voice designed to distract her from his negligence.

“News of what, Herbert?” Lady Avery asked, her face alight with pleasure at the promise of a delicious
on dit
.

“The news of my arrival, of course.” He stepped to the fireplace and feigned an interest in the mantle clock so that his mother did not witness his own apprehension.

“Oh, yes!” Lady Avery cried with a clap of her hands, an occurrence so frequent Harry often wondered why her hands didn’t simply give up the ghost and snap off at the wrists. “I have been waiting for you ever so long! It wouldn’t have been so dreadful except the Crenshaw girl insisted you left for London in train with her family
weeks
ago!”

“You spoke with Mira?” he asked, secretly hoping his mother didn’t notice how his head swerved around at mention of his beloved’s name.

“Of course! At the Wellborns’ ball. She was there with that cousin of hers, Forge or Porgy or … ”

“George,” Harry supplied.

“Yes! George! I can never remember it; it’s such a foreign-sounding name!”

“It was the name of our last four kings,” Harry said dryly.

“Yes, I suppose that’s true,” she said in a faint voice.

“Now, Mother, don’t you go under on me. I need you!”

“You need me?” She sat up, suddenly full of vim and vigor. “For what? And what can you possibly mean about my going under? I will have you know, I don’t go under!”

“But of course you do,” Harry said, sitting down next to her on the sofa. “It is one of your most tenacious charms. Now,” he said, holding up a hand to ward off further questions, “before I become distracted by your numerous other tenacious qualities, I find I have a problem, one with which you might help.”

“Oh, Herbert, does it have anything to do with those special letters you were receiving at the Abbey?”

“Yes, dearest, how utterly perceptive of you! You haven’t said anything to Father about them, have you?”

“No, Herbert, I gave my word,” she breathed.

“Speaking of which, he is not due home any moment, is he?”

Lady Avery collapsed against the sofa cushions and let out a sigh of exasperation. “
Mais non
! He would remain at his club all the day long if there were nothing to prevent it.”

“In that case, what would prevent him?” Harry asked.

“Prevent who, what?” she asked, her face an utter blank.

“Father. Might he stay at his club all day today or is there something to prevent him?” Harry said with what remained of his store of patience.

“Well,
I
would prevent him if I could!”

“What I need to know is have you? Prevented him? From staying at his club all day today?”

“As if he would listen to a thing I have to say, Herbert!” Lady Avery replied in her most disagreeable tones. “Really, you do try my patience!”

Harry drew a deep sigh and took her hands in his. “What I meant to ask is: are we quite alone?”

Lady Avery conducted an exaggerated visual tour of the room. “Do you see anyone, my darling?”

“No, I don’t, but your butler has been known to put a glass to the wall and not infrequently, I might add.”

“Yes, dear, but he has grown quite deaf and one glass won’t do. I suppose he could try two but I’m not sure how he would work it out exactly,” Lady Avery said, her brow furrowed with pointless concentration.

“Very well. I need you to pay the strictest attention to what I say. Can you do that?” Harry asked with hopes he did not sound as condescending as he felt.

“I suppose so. I can be quite perspicacious when I wish to be. Perspicacious — what a lovely word! I don’t believe I’ve used it before,” Lady Avery mused.

“I believe you must have a different word in mind. Perspicacious means to be shrewd and quick-witted.”

“Yes, exactly!” Lady Avery cried with a vehement nod of her head.

“Well then,” Harry said in hopes he had adequately stifled his astonishment, “let us hope you are correct for the task I require of you shall require much quick thinking indeed. I shall need you to throw a party. A large one. Tonight.” He fought the urge to turn away so as to spare himself the sight of his mother’s reaction but allowed himself an internal wince and braced for the worst.

“But Herbert! How can I?” she said in a languid manner quite opposite to the one he had expected. “You know I am always the last of the better families to give their annual ball. Everything is all set for the end of the Season. So you see there is nothing to be done.”

“But, dearest, I need to run into a certain gentleman, and it must look unintentional. I can think of no other way to accomplish it.”

“Tonight! Did you say tonight?” she exclaimed as if the meaning of his request had only now been comprehended. “I can’t possibly! How am I to know how to out-do my friends if I don’t hold my do last?” she implored, jumping to her feet and pulling at her hair. “And how can I be the first to hold her do right after the Wellborns’ spectacular do? They had live fish swimming in the stream arranged down the center of the head table. Live fish! The only other person known to do such a thing was Prinny himself. Now that he is dead I suppose it is perfectly justified to ape his fashions, but where am I to get live fish by tonight? And twice as many? And they must be bigger and more beautifully colored, and I will quite simply
die
if I don’t have live fish swimming at table for my party!”

“Mama, please do not take on so,” Harry soothed, realizing that he had set about a far more onerous task than he had supposed. “I now perceive how difficult it would be for you to do as I have requested. I will find another way. I suppose Lady Crenshaw would be willing to attempt it for me.”

“Lady Crenshaw? Where is
she
to find live fish by this evening?”

“Well,” Harry wheedled with a sudden spurt of inspiration. “I am persuaded she could manage it. However, if she does, I am fairly sure everyone will make her an object of fun.”

“Whatever for?” Lady Avery demanded. “Aside from that ghastly turban she has worn these last two seasons.”

“I think it would be obvious to everyone that she was merely attempting to out-do the Wellborns, and I highly doubt she should come out on the sunny side of that comparison.”

Lady Avery collapsed onto the sofa as understanding dawned. “Why, Herbert, you are so very clever! I could pull it off, absolutely, but Lady Crenshaw would surely have much to apologize for should she make the attempt. But I think I shall not,” she mused in so mysterious a fashion, Harry couldn’t be sure of her intentions.

“So Lady Crenshaw should be cannon fodder for the elite of London society?”

“No, of course not, Herbert! I shall give the party but I shan’t attempt to out-do the Wellborns. People will be expecting it, of course! Can you not see the tears of boredom starting in my eyes already?” she demanded.

“Yes, Mother, and they are quite unbecoming. To not attempt something far more ravishing than the Wellborns’ do is a devastating thought, but I think you have hit on something quite unique.”

“Why darling boy, what can you mean?”

“Why, you said it yourself, not a moment ago! Everyone will be expecting you to throw a lavish party and will never allow it to be better than, or even as good, as the Wellborns’ do, so why not go a hundred miles in the opposite direction and throw a party that is as understated as it is elegant?” Harry suggested, silently congratulating himself on his own perspicacity.

“But of course!” Lady Avery declared and followed it with a round of applause. “I shall bedeck the tables and chairs with ivy from the square, for, as I am forever saying, one can’t possibly be more understated than when one is forced to pick offerings from the garden.”

“I do believe I have heard you say so on more than one occasion,” Harry said, assuring himself it wasn’t a lie if you uttered it for the sake of one’s country.

“But Herbert, do you think it elegant enough?”

“Ivy has a classical air about it. What could be more elegant than that which calls to mind Helen of Troy or Diana the Huntress?”

“My thoughts exactly!” Lady Avery replied with a smile of pure delight. “I shall wear my Greek Key gown that I have had, oh … even before Porgy the Sixth was king.”

“George the Fourth,” Harry corrected.

His mother had the grace to look struck. “I suppose it only
seemed
as if there were six of them. I declare, every time I look around, there is a new George about to be crowned.”

Harry deemed it unwise to point out that his mother had been born only long enough to witness the crowning of a single George and pressed on. “What about food? Have you any in the house?”

Lady Avery looked down her nose at her son. “Of course we have! What are we to eat if not food?”

“But, is there enough to feed all of your guests or should you take out the carriage and bespeak yourself a feast?”

“Oh, yes, I see. Though the cheese and apple slices we brought along from the Abbey are certainly understated, they are hardly elegant.”

“Mama, I do believe you are perspicacious after all. Do be a dear and take yourself upstairs to smarten yourself up a bit. Perhaps a bonnet that promises to cover that crooked cap of yours. Meanwhile, I shall write out invitations. How does that sound?”

“It sounds wonderful, Herbert!” Lady Avery cried with nary a clap as she rushed to her room for her cloak and bonnet.

Harry pulled the bell for Webster to bespeak paper and pen when it suddenly occurred to him that the old servant had never appeared when Harry had rung for him ten minutes prior. Perhaps he has been listening through the wall after all. However, when the butler appeared, he seemed very much his usual self and claimed not to have heard the earlier ring.

Nevertheless, Harry fretted over the matter of Webster as he waited for the promised articles to arrive but forced his fears aside in order to write out invitations. It was more than a little unusual to invite people to a party with only a few hours’ notice, but Harry was determined. In order to assuage any suspicions George might develop, Harry wrote a note that indicated this was a secondary invitation as no response to the first had been received. As for the remainder of the guests, he knew they were accustomed to his mother’s flights of fancy and forged on with hopes that most would be curious enough to cast aside their previous plans for the evening in favor of the ball at Haversham House.

In truth, the only guest he required the attendance of was George, but that would never do. Harry must somehow create a situation in which he could discover the whereabouts of his orders and be off to collect them whilst George was otherwise occupied. That required a crowd. Lord and Lady Crenshaw and family were invited which would serve as an excellent diversion for George.

It would also give Harry the opportunity to see Mira and possibly dance with her close enough in his arms that he could discover what it was that had so drastically changed her attitude the last time he had seen her. Harry would give up his duties as a secret service agent in an instant if it meant Mira could be his, except for one thing — the life of the Queen. He must find out what was in those orders and as soon as possible.

By the time Lady Avery returned, Harry had completed his chore. He would divide the missives amongst the footmen to deliver, but he would hand carry those addressed to the Duke of Marcross and the Crenshaws. He allowed himself only enough time to buss his mother on the cheek on his way out the door, jumped into his waiting carriage, and tooled his way as speedily as he dared to the houses Crenshaw, home to George and his mother whilst in London, and Wembley, the townhouse owned by Mira’s father.

He had hoped for a glimpse of Mira when the door opened, but not a soul save the footman who answered his knock was to be seen. Disappointed, Harry returned to his conveyance but hesitated to drive away. He wished to ensure Mira would attend and hoped for some sign that he was not so thoroughly in her black books that she would refuse. He was rewarded for his patience when, a few moments later, there appeared a pale oval encircled by red curls at one of the upper story windows.

Harry wished to leap to his feet and wave his hat in the air but decided Mira would deem it too Bertie-like. Instead, he chose to favor her with a more restrained inclination of the head followed by the most speaking look he could manage at such a distance. When she opened the window and smiled down at him, he limited himself to a mere smile in return. Then, with a sense of well-being he had not enjoyed for quite some time, he turned his carriage in the direction of Haversham House in order to prepare a toilette that bespoke enough of Bertie to maintain his alter ego and enough of his true self to best please Mira.