Rescuing Rosalind (Three Original Ladies and Their Gentlemen) (8 page)

Elise patted Fanny’s arm. “Peter will see what is to be done for the best. I trust him and, at this point, I think you must, as well.”

Fanny could only hope that whatever restitution the duke demanded of her friend, it would not be an unwanted marriage.

{ 9 }

T
HE MARQUIS OF DEAL HAD JUST RISEN
from breakfast when his manservant informed him that he had an early caller.

“The Duke of Ruisdell, my lord.”

“What the devil?” Buck strode out of his small dining room to meet the duke in the sitting room at the front of the house. The man was standing with his back to the entrance, hands gripped behind him, staring out into the street.

“Ruisdell?”

His guest spun around. The look on his face was severe.

“Buck, you have landed your Rosalind in the soup.”

Alarmed, he stopped his progress toward the duke and dropped his hand of greeting. “What?”

“Is it true that when you took Fanny to Richmond in your phaeton, you introduced her to your first officer as your mistress?”

“She was wearing a thick veil! He could not see her face. And I know it sounds deuced ungentlemanly, but it was Westringham who assumed she was my mistress.”

“And you did not correct him?”

“No. Rosalind took him right up and proceeded to make the whole situation into a farce. What has happened?”

“He caught her out. Westringham thinks she is a jade trying to force herself onto polite society to find a husband since you won’t come up to scratch.”

“The devil! That doesn’t sound like Clark.”

“I believe he was in love with her. I imagine his pride is involved.”

Buck pounded a fist into his left hand, and then ran both hands through his hair. “Demmed idiot! He should have come to me!”

“Instead, he sent her a note. We do not know how many people he may have confided in.”

“Rosalind must be beside herself.” He swore a lengthy sailor’s curse, as he started for the door. “I shall go round to see him immediately. He will listen to me. He’s used to taking my orders.”

Ruisdell grabbed his arm and looked at him, his face hard. “If he has told even one other person, you are bound in honor to offer for Fanny.”

Oddly, this eventuality had not even occurred to Buck. He balled his hands into fists as panic gripped him.

“Westringham must be stopped. I will see to it immediately. Obviously, I am greatly disturbed by this, but I will do whatever is required.” He started out of the room again, but then remembered his manners. “If you will excuse me, Peter, I shall be off immediately.”

* * *

His friend was not at home. Westringham's manservant volunteered the information that he had gone to Gentleman Jackson’s Boxing Saloon.

On his way to the sporting establishment, Buck reflected that his friend was probably attempting to rid himself of his anger and frustration at Rosalind’s supposed perfidy. He should never have taken her up with him in the phaeton. And having done so, what had possessed him to introduce her to his wife-seeking friend?

Now, if he couldn’t stop his lieutenant from talking about the incident, he would be the one with the wife. He held her in deep affection, it was true. She amused him. She even interested him and attracted him. But he was nearly certain that the state of marriage would grow static and obliterate those incipient feelings. Life as a sailor had accustomed him to constant change. He certainly was not ready to abandon his bachelor ways.

And he had seriously displeased his oldest friend. He did not blame Ruisdell for being angry. Buck had acted like a veritable bird-wit, not a former captain in the Royal Navy.

When he at last laid eyes on the former lieutenant, his friend was punishing himself by boxing with the Gentleman himself. Sweat poured over his back and chest. His face was red and already bruised. Buck stood by and waited for him to finish.

When Westringham at last walked out of the ring, he noticed Buck and threw him a venomous look.

“See here,” Buck said, “you must spare me a minute, Clark. You’ve got hold of the wrong end of the stick about Rosalind.”

The viscount said nothing, but walked into the changing room. Deal followed him, narrating the story of his outing with Rosalind from beginning to end.

“I still say she’s nothing but a jade, conspiring to take me in like that. What sort of young lady would do that? A demmed loose one, that’s who.”

“But she is not, has not been, and never will be my mistress or even my occasional lightskirt. She is virtuous, and if you dare to speak otherwise, I shall have to call you out.”

Westringham whirled on him. “The duke ring a peal over you? Insisting you marry the chit?”

“Clark, just tell me. Have you said aught to anyone on this matter?”

“No.” The man sluiced himself with a bucket of water.

“Do I have your word that you will engage to keep this incident to yourself?”

He sluiced himself again. “Granted,” he said finally.

Buck offered his hand, but his old friend refused to take it. Westringham turned away and went to don his clothing.

“Thank you, Westringham,” Buck said stiffly and left the saloon.

His next call was at White’s, where he found the duke and reported his success. “I’m afraid I’ve lost a good friend over this. I hope I haven’t lost your regard, as well.”

“Fanny is a maddening, unmanageable child, and together you make a disastrous pair. I suggest you make your pact with Westringham known to her and then stay as far from her as possible, if you do value our friendship.”

So it was that midday found him knocking on the door of Shearings. When he entered the small drawing room, Rosalind was seated next to her sister, diligently embroidering a piece of linen. She looked up when the butler announced him, and he could see that she had been crying. The ordeal had shaken her even more than he had thought. The idea of his Rosalind in tears caused a rush of emotion in his breast that he was afraid to name.

“It is not necessary for you to marry me,” she said before he could get a word out. “I am going to leave London and go back to Ruisdell Palace. I will be nanny to my niece and nephew as long as Elise needs me.”

Despite his promise to Ruisdell Buck was saddened to hear of her departure. His voice when he spoke was gentle. “You need not do anything so drastic. I have explained the episode in its entirety to Westringham and, while he still bears us a grudge, he has agreed to say nothing about the incident. He is an honorable man, and has given me his word.”

Rosalind set down her embroidery and looked at him, eyes round. “He had not yet put it about?”

“I caught him in time.”

“Thank heavens!”

“Yes. I agree. Now I believe we should dispense with any future starts, no matter how tempting, unless we want to find ourselves leg-shackled.”

The girl looked up at him, her eyes cloudy with sadness. “Must we?”

“We must. How can you doubt it?”

With eyebrows raised, Elise said briskly, “Really, Fan, you have just had the narrowest escape from complete ruin!”

Buck was deeply sorry for Rosalind. She clearly found society as tyrannical as he did. But the duke was right. It would be disastrous to carry their unholy partnership forward, much as he would miss it.

Thinking of his promise to her about the coming production of
As You Like It
as well as his promise to Ruisdell to stay away from her
,
he said, “I believe I will leave for my estate for a bit. I will take Westringham down with me, as well as some of my former seamen who need jobs. I will carry them down to Kent and set them to work repairing the main house. I am anxious for it to be finished. I have no wish to live in London longer than necessary.”

“So it is good-bye then?” his Rosalind asked, standing and walking to where he stood.

“Yes, I am afraid it is.”

She offered her hand. “Good-bye, my lord.” Her lovely eyes glistened with more tears.

He brushed his lips over her knuckles. An imp prompted him to say, “I shall write.”

{ 10 }

A
S FANNY WATCHED DEAL RIDE AWAY
on his horse, a dark cloud of melancholy settled on her. She was going to miss their unconventional twosome. Obviously, she had not managed to make him fall in love with her. But she could not but be grateful to him for smoothing the road with Westringham. What a disaster that could have been! It would have reflected terribly on her sister and the duke, and even her niece and nephew. A scandal of that sort would not be forgotten soon. Obviously, she must give up her dream of performing on the London stage.

She went slowly up the stairs to the sitting room that Elise had decorated especially for her, with its lime and cream striped wallpaper and upholstery. At her desk, she took up her quill, hoping that she could express her thoughts to Sophie and make some sense of them.

Dearest Sister,

I have narrowly escaped ruin. I will not bore you with details, except to say that I should have behaved better. I owe Elise and Peter so much
.
Had they not taken me into their home, I would still be living that intolerable life in Shropshire. My heart is so heavy. Even my imagination has ceased functioning. There is no longer a role I can fall into. The future looks grim and gray. I certainly cannot face going to Lady Constance’s musicale this evening. All I want to do is to escape from
thoughts of near ruin and my lack of prospects
. . . .

She put down the quill. The truth about herself was so bad that she could not confide it even to Sophie. Calling for Becky to help her out of her frock, she sat listlessly before her mirror.

She had courted ruin purposely, thinking that she was different than everyone else and should not be expected to act the same. Who did she think she was?

She had railed against the
ton,
but when she was on the brink of losing her reputation, she had seen only a bleak future before her. No matter how she wished things were different, the truth was that obedience to the principles of behavior laid down by the
ton
was for her own protection as a woman. A woman who lost her virtue before her marriage was of no value at all and had no prospects for marriage among her social equals. Perhaps, after all, she was a hypocrite. She realized she could never achieve independence unless she were married well to a husband who understood her. Married women had far more freedom than she did as an aging debutante.

Once she had disrobed, she crawled into bed, though it was the middle of the afternoon.

“Be you sick, miss?” Becky inquired. “Would you like me to fetch anything for you? Tea? Chocolate? A cold compress for your head?”

“No. Thank you, Becky. I just wish to sleep. Tell my sister I will not be down for dinner. Also that I will not be joining them this evening for the musicale.”

Fanny descended almost at once into the black tunnel of sleep. She dreamed a sequence from
As You Like It,
where Orlando, in the personage of Lord Warmsby, was proclaiming his love. Repulsed by him, she was running away, hiding in the topiary garden at Ruisdell Palace. Elise was playing the part of Rosalind’s bosom bow, Celia, when Fanny was awakened by Celia/Elise shaking her shoulder.

“Dearest Fan, wake up, darling. I cannot have you going into a decline. You must eat some dinner. I have brought it myself and will sit with you while you eat.”

She groaned. “Elise, you are so good to me. I am a wretch. I nearly ruined all of us.”

“I told you, I think it far more the fault of the Marquis. Thinking it over has put me off him altogether, though he be a friend of Peter’s.”

Fanny said, “We are rather a naughty combination, I am afraid.” She struggled into a sitting position, putting her pillows behind her. She was surprisingly hungry and addressed herself to the dinner of roast partridge.

“I will not allow you to lie here at home while we go out for the evening,” Elise said. “Becky is preparing a bath, and you are going to get up and put on your nicest gown. Then we will go to Lady Constance’s musicale. Have you forgotten Aunt Clarice is to perform an aria from her opera?”

“Elise, much as I love Aunt Clarice, that opera is dreadful. It’s about yowling cats!”

“I know, dear, but it means the world to her. She has been working on it for years. When I lived with her during my come-out, I used to play accompaniment for her.”

“You’re such a saint, Elise. And I am such a disappointment to you.”

“Come, Fan, this is not like you! You are alarming me dreadfully! Can it be that you are missing Deal?”

“Do you suppose he will ever come back to London?”

“I cannot tell you that, my dear. And Peter has warned him to stay away from you. Now, come! Finish up your dinner. Here is Becky. Your bath is ready.”

{ 11 }

B
UCK HAD BEEN UNABLE TO CONVINCE WESTRINGHAM
to accompany him into Kent. However, he had hired three of his former seamen, who were following him in his carriage with his luggage. As he rode ahead, his thoughts were on Rosalind.

He was confoundedly blue-deviled, feeling remorse for his part in her near disgrace. Buck hoped devoutly that she would not put forward her scheme for playacting. As he reflected again that it must be dashed difficult to be a young woman living within the confines of the
ton,
Rosalind had his deepest sympathies.

Recalling his second conversation with Westringham the day before, he grew uncomfortable.

“How could you be so careless of her reputation as to let me believe she was your mistress?” his former lieutenant had demanded.

He had been at a loss. Why had he allowed it?

“She’s a lovely woman. Even you must have noticed. How could you jeopardize her future in such a way?” Westringham had continued.

Had his opinion of Rosalind mended enough that his friend declined to accompany him because he wished to make things up with her? Was he going to resume his courtship of her?