Mutual Consent (17 page)

“I suppose much can be forgiven one who is as pursued and courted as Lady Cartier must surely be,” said Babs ironically. There was a considering expression in her green eyes as she saw that the earl had left the lady and was swiftly approaching her table.

Viscount Taredell caught sight of his lordship at the same moment, and he greeted him with something bordering on relief. It had made him distinctly uncomfortable to participate in a discussion of the earl’s mistress with his lordship’s wife and her ladyship’s aunt. “Marcus! I am happy to see you, old fellow. You shall not believe it, I expect, but yesterday at the club I saw none other than our friend Captain Demont.’’ He realized abruptly that in his haste to steer clear of dangerous waters he had introduced an equally inappropriate subject. He started to cough in a violent manner and groped for his wineglass.

Simon Hadwicke helpfully gave it into his hand and in a concerned fashion administered a resounding slap to him on the back. The viscount choked on the wine he had hastily gulped and whooped in earnest paroxysm. His eyes watering, he managed to gasp, “Damn your eyes, Simon!”

“Captain Demont? I have not yet had the pleasure of meeting all of your friends, I apprehend,” Babs said.

Lord Chatworth rested a thoughtful glance on the hapless viscount before he turned to reply. “He is scarcely a friend, my lady. He is, rather, a Captain Sharp whose methods of play are more than suspect.”

Babs was silenced by the earl’s repressive tone. She thought she understood the matter well enough. Though she was unfamiliar with the term that his lordship had used to describe this Captain Demont, it did not take a great deal of intelligence to gather that the gentleman cheated at cards, nor that the earl had had unpleasant dealings with the fellow in the past.

“At the club, Taredell? I find that most curious,” Hadwicke said. He chose to ignore the earl’s fulminating glance. “Do you not also, my lord? I suspect our friend has, wormed himself into the confidence of someone perhaps overly foolish and quite young.”

The viscount had finally recovered and was assuring Lady Azaela of it with some embarrassment. He looked around at Hadwicke’s observation and said admiringly, “Why, that is just the thing, Simon.” Completely forgetting the tactlessness of the subject, he volunteered, “Demont came in on the sleeve of that young chub of Chesterton’s, who should have known better than to vouch for such a swarthy fellow. But I daresay he is beginning to regret it. I understand that he and Demont have been thick as thieves this last fortnight.’’

Hadwicke looked across the table at the earl, whose expression had grown rather closed. “I discover a desire to pop into the club later this evening. Do you care to join me, Marcus?”

Lord Chatworth’s eyes gleamed suddenly. A strange smile began to play about his mouth.”It occurs to me that nothing could give me greater pleasure, Simon.”

Hadwicke bowed from the waist and the viscount cracked a laugh of understanding.

The earl politely inquired of Babs and Lady Azaela whether they would like more lobster.

After luncheon on the following day, Barbara received an invitation to visit her mother-in-law in her ladyship’s rooms. Babs went up to find the lady reclining on her settee. In a low voice, the young countess asked the dresser, “How is her ladyship today?”

The maid shook her head, but she smiled. “Her ladyship is still feeling pulled, but she’ll not let onto you, my lady.”

“Macy, pray stop gossiping about me and let my daughter-in-law come to me,” said Lady Chatworth in a resigned voice.

Exchanging a glance with the maid, Babs went over to the dowager and took the frail hand that the older lady extended to her. “I hope that you are well, my lady,” she said.

The dowager chuckled faintly. “I suspect that Macy has already told you that I was made more tired than usual by the exertions of the evening. But I do not regard it. One becomes immured to one’s own debilitations, and it did me a world of good to play the
grande dame.’’

Babs sat down. “I have not yet thanked you for your role in my rescue from social ruin. The evening would have been a total disaster otherwise.”

The dowager countess smiled at her daughter-in-law.”My dear, I do not allow anyone to insult a member of my family in my presence. It was rude and malicious in the extreme.” She paused a moment to study the younger woman thoughtfully. “I do have a criticism to take up with you, however. It is my opinion that you refine too much upon your lack of birth.”

Babs attempted a light laugh. “I wish that were true, my lady.”

Lady Chatworth shook her head. “You are far too sensitive, child, and unnecessarily so. Your mother was a gentlewoman and had as much to do with your birth—indeed, more so—than your father.”

“Society is not so forgiving as you, my lady,” Babs said quietly. “I do not think that anyone will soon forget my father’s disruption of the ball.”

The dowager countess laughed. “My dear Babs, you are such an infant. Why, by tomorrow there will be something terribly more salacious and fascinating than the brief appearance of a tradesman at a ball to talk about. You have no notion how this town thrives on gossip. It must always be exclaiming over the latest
on-dit.
Believe me, child, your minor scandal is very much old news. As for society’s forgiveness, I have seen two unknown Irish girls of negligible birth marry into the peerage. I do not believe that the ladies suffered for it in the least.”

“The Gunning sisters, of course,” said Babs, smiling.

Lady Chatworth nodded, also smiling. She made a dismissing gesture. “But that is not the whole point that I wish to make to you, my dear. I most urgently urge you to step out of your father’s shadow. If you do not, you will be forever chained to a past that you find reprehensible.”

Babs was silent, at once moved by the dowager countess’s concern as much as she was disconcerted by the opinions expressed by that redoubtable lady. Finally she said, “You have given me much food for thought, my lady. I cannot assure you that I can do as you say, but I do promise I shall try.”

“That is certainly as much as one can ask of you,” said Lady Chatworth. She sighed and suddenly looked older than her years. “I should tell you that I shall be leaving toward the end of the week. I long to be home again at Wormswood, and though I have enjoyed meeting you and becoming acquainted with you, I think that I shall be more comfortable away from London.”

“I shall be more sorry than I can express to say good-bye to you, my lady,” Babs said sincerely.

The dowager countess patted her daughter-in-law’s arm. “Pray do not go misty-eyed on me, my dear. Emotional scenes are so fatiguing.”

“Yes, of course,” said Babs, wobbling on a laugh.

“I shall look forward to Christmas, when you and Marcus will come to visit. It is always a pretty season in the country,” said Lady Chatworth.

“I shall anticipate a wonderful visit, ma’am,” Babs said. She saw that the dowager was worn out. As she rose, she said a quiet good-bye. She left the dowager countess in the hands of her maid, who was already efficiently tucking a shawl over her mistress’s legs as Babs left the sitting room.

When she went downstairs, Babs met the earl, who was just coming in.
“
Good day, my lord,” she said pleasantly. She looked at his face, wondering what he was thinking.

Lord Chatworth nodded to her as he handed his hat and gloves to Simmers. “I see that you have been abovestairs. Have you see her ladyship today?”

“I have just come from your mother’s rooms. She is recuperating from yesterday evening,” Babs said.

“I thought as much. I shall go up to see her presently,” said Lord Chatworth. “Pray join me in the study, my lady. Smithers, coffee.”

Babs preceded the earl as he held open the door for her. Lord Chatworth closed the door and gestured her to a chair in front of the hearth. Babs sat down and folded her hands in her lap. She looked up at him with an inquiring expression in her wide green eyes.

Lord Chatworth went to stand at the mantel, his shoulders against it. His glance was speculative. “I have something to relate to you that I am not certain you will appreciate.”

“Indeed, my lord? But I shall not be able to say whether it is appreciated or not until I have heard it,’’ Babs said with a smile.

Lord Chatworth gave a laugh. “No, that is true.”

The door opened and the butler entered with the coffee. He served his master and mistress and then quietly left again. Babs did not wait for the earl to speak, but said, “It is about my father, is it not? When you returned to the ballroom last night, I knew from your expression that something had taken place between you.”

“I had hoped that I had done better than trumpet my emotions,” said Lord Chatworth, frowning.

“I do not think that very many guessed. It was your eyes that gave you away, actually. Your expression was of the blandest,” Babs said.

“I am relieved by your reassurance, my lady,” Lord Chatworth bowed to her in an ironic fashion. He was silent a moment while she waited, then abruptly he said, “I have given orders that Cribbage is barred from the house. I hope this does not unduly upset you.”

“Upset me! Why should you think that it would? Last night my father made an unwelcome intrusion into my life and yours. It is not likely to be the sole instance that he means to do so. Therefore, I am hardly cast down to learn that you have taken the logical course of action to impede him from doing so again. Quite the contrary, in fact. As I told you several weeks ago, I am anxious to be entirely free of him,’’ Babs said.

Lord Chatworth looked at her searchingly. “Are you, indeed? You speak with such emphasis that I am almost compelled to believe you. However, it seems somewhat unnatural to me that a daughter should possess such a violent dislike of her father that she would be eager to cut all concourse with him.”

A slight flush rose in her face. “Perhaps my intention does seem unnatural to you, Marcus. But pray believe me when I say that nothing would please me more than to see the back of my father’s head and know that I should never need to look into his face again.’’ She broke off, aware that she had spoken with more heat than she had intended. Deliberately she turned the subject. “The dowager countess informed me that she intends to leave us at the end of the week.”

Lord Chatworth had been on the point of pursuing the mystery that lay behind his wife’s strong dislike of her parent, but this news served to momentarily sidetrack him. “It does not surprise me overmuch to hear it. My mother has not cared for London for several years. She prefers the quiet of the country and her small circle of intimates.’’ He stepped away from the mantel to reach down for his wife’s hands. “I wish you would confide in me.”

Babs felt unexpected tears start to her eyes. “I do not know what you mean, Marcus.”

His lordship’s reply dashed the burgeoning of warmth that she had felt at his request. “Anything that I might learn about your father’s character is of importance to me in my fight against him. Surely you must see that.” Lord Chatworth’s voice was as persuasive as he was capable of making it. He had seen the glimmering in her eyes and thought that he had finally penetrated through her guarded exterior.

But Barbara was once more in firm command of herself. She thought that she had more pride than to cast herself upon his chest at the least encouragement, especially when she suspected that he would interpret her vulnerability as an invitation. She gave a laugh and freed her hands. “Yes, I certainly understand that. My father is a formidable opponent in business. You would do better to apply to those who have dealt with him in the City these past several years, for I was still a child when I left his house and I can scarcely be expected to present an informed judgment.”

Lord Chatworth regarded her for some minutes. “I suspect that you cheat your own perceptions, my lady.” He turned away from her and poured coffee for himself.

Barbara regretted the awkwardness of the moment. She tried to bring fresh life to their discourse. “I trust that your outing to the club with Mr. Hadwicke and Viscount Taredell after the ball proved entertaining.”

The earl glanced at her. “It was certainly that,” he acknowledged. In order to change the direction of the conversation, he said, “There is a soiree this evening that you might enjoy. I was reminded of it by the hostess, whom I met while out this morning in the park. I shall be happy to accompany you if you should care to attend.”

“Yes, I should like to go,” Babs said.

He turned, the quick surprise in his eyes. He had not actually had any real expectation that she would accept his off-the-cuff invitation. But quickly his expression schooled itself to one of polite gratification. “I am honored, ma’am. I have a few engagements to see to this afternoon, but I shall return in time to escort you to the soiree.”

Babs inclined her head. “I shall look forward to it, my lord,” she said, and in truth she was. The dowager countess’s observations earlier had struck a responsive chord in her. Her courage had been awakened by that lady’s startling view of her antecedents.

In the short time that it had taken her to walk downstairs, she had thought about whom she had become and what she wanted. Certainly neither her new social position nor her own long-held ambitions would possibly allow her to embrace the life of a recluse, even if she had a desire for such. She felt she had at last taken the first step of many that would eventually carry her past the boundaries of her lather’s long shadow.

“Then I shall wait on your pleasure this evening, my lady,” said Lord Chatworth.

The Earl of Chatworth did not see his wife for the remainder of the afternoon, and he dined out. When he returned to change into evening togs, he had quite forgotten he had said that he would act as her escort. He left the town house again without a single thought for her.

When Babs went downstairs and inquired after the earl, she was astonished and hurt to be told that his lordship had left a good hour earlier.

The butler’s eyes held a glimmer of compassion after he delivered the information, for her ladyship stood quite still with a blind look in her fine eyes.