Seeking Celeste (22 page)

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Authors: Hayley Ann Solomon

BOOK: Seeking Celeste
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Lady Caroline nodded regally, flirted at Lord Robert outrageously with her eyes, tapped him on the shoulder with her fan—to his credit, he did not wince, though she had just nicked his wound—and moved on. Lord Robert was playing most satisfactorily into her hands. Now she had only to spread a few rumours, let slip a few confidences. . . she touched the necklace delightedly. To be sure, it was a talisman. She would have been surprised to see the brooding look upon Sir Archibald's face as he watched her entrance from the wings.
The hour was now quite well advanced. She had missed several quadrilles and the first two country reels. The waltz was about to strike up and she would dearly have loved to corner Edgemere for it. It would have fitted her stratagems perfectly, but the annoying man seemed permanently stationed at the entrance, though no one had arrived for a half hour at least.
“Lady Caroline, may I have the pleasure of the first waltz?” Sir Archibald Dalrymple blinked from the glare of the diamonds. She imagined, however, that the charms of her cleavage were oversetting his nerves, causing him to tug reprehensibly at his neckerchief. She suppressed a slight scowl. If Lord Robert was so disobliging as to be unavailable, she supposed it could do no harm to take a turn with Dalrymple. In truth, after the earl, he was the handsomest man in the room, even if he was a complete gudgeon.
“Very well, Sir Archibald! You shall have that honour, though I swear you had better do something about your neckerchief or I shall seek out Lord Willoughby instead!” She loved setting her rivals at loggerheads. She stared archly at Dalrymple as he muttered an apology and stuffed the whole starched creation into the top of his expensive, if garish, waistcoat. She raised her eyes but made no further comment as she gave him her hand. The orchestra was striking up, and there was no time to seek out another partner. It would do her reputation no good to sit out a dance like a veritable wallflower, so she graciously smiled upon Sir Archibald and took a step onto the floor. Eyes followed the duo, then polite applause. Lady Caroline preened, for she was in high good looks and the diamonds, she was pleased to reflect, enhanced her creamy bosom and lent her an air of queenly elegance. There was no way out for Edgemere now, for every eye in the hall was upon her. Her possession of such an expensive gift spoke volumes. Edgemere was doomed, for no one would believe he would give a respectable woman such a gift without first asking for her hand.
The waltz ended at last, and she was thankful, for Dalrymple had missed his steps several times. The last had been the most severe, nearly causing a rip in her embroidered blond satin hem. She suppressed a glare but refused the mumbled offer of orgeat. Miss Wratcham was approaching, and she was just the person to sow a few seeds... .
“Miss Wratcham! How delightful you look in that gown!”
“Thank you, Lady Caroline. I daresay it is not as
flamboyant
as yours, but it does have a certain flair. May I compliment you on your necklace? A recent gift, if I collect?” She looked slyly at Lady Caroline, agog to hear if the rumours swiftly circulating the ballroom were true.
Lady Dashford smiled. Miss Wratcham could be relied upon to play exactly into her hands. She opened the clasp of her fan and dropped her wrist, so that the silver lace opened to its fullest extent.
“I fear you have divined my secret! How terribly naughty of you, Miss Wratcham!”
Miss Wratcham bent her head closer as Lady Caroline fingered the necklace. “I do declare I am betrothed! Now don't say a word ...”
“How deliciously marvellous. Did he give you the necklace as a betrothal gift?”
Lady Caroline nodded. “But hush! I know I can rely on your discretion absolutely.”
“Oh, absolutely.”
Lady Dashford nodded. She clicked her fan shut and smiled as Lord Willoughby begged to sign his name to her card. Miss Wratcham excused herself, for she had something “very particular” to say to her dear friend Lady Dorothea Pilkington.
She was gone before she could notice the faint smirk behind Lady Caroline's best society smile. The deed was done; she had seen to it.
Twenty-one
Miss Anne Derringer dried her eyes and scolded herself for being such a ninnyhammered fool. Lord Edgemere had made his intentions as plain as a pikestaff to her, and she had been too addlewitted to pay any attention to them. She had allowed her sensibilities to overcome her common sense, and that was sadly—sadly—out of character. She could not blame Lord Robert for kissing Lady Caroline's hand. She
did
look like a fairy princess in her flowing tunics and glittering gemstones. Perhaps he was simply reconciling himself to his fate, determined to do the right thing by her even if his heart
did
waver.
Anne had no doubt that it wavered, for she had felt the full strength of his love directed at her, and the monumental power of such a force could not simply be ignored or denied. Still, he had chosen duty and honour before matters of the heart, and it was incumbent on her now to abide by that decision. It would not help Lord Robert if he saw how deeply he was cutting up at her heart or how arduous was the burden he had condemned to her shoulders. He would be bearing the selfsame weight; she could not ask him to endure any more.
Anne sat up with decision, oblivious to the soft folds of cherry rose that shimmered in the candlelight of the cosy nursery room. It would be easier if she left, finally, and allowed him to forge the role he had assumed for himself She knew that if he could never be a loving husband to Caroline, he would at least be a dutiful one.
With a heavy heart, she began the business of writing a letter to the new governess, whoever she might be. She prayed that Lord Robert would not be so foolhardy as to reinstate his original intentions. If for no other reason, she would speak to him before the night was out. The children deserved that consideration at least. She dipped her pen, then softly inscribed the stages Thomas had reached with his Latin, mathematics and French proverbs. So hard to quantify! Her lips quirked as she remembered some of his quainter—but definitely not repeatable—phrases. And Kitty! She must be allowed to continue with her Gothic novels, for only then might she pursue a lasting interest in literature of all genres.
She hoped the new governess would give them a bit of slack, would mingle humour with discipline... . She threw down her pen. Gracious heavens, she was writing a dissertation! She tore up the paper, then sighed. It was useless. And the time! It was late; the children would be sleeping if she did not hurry to make her farewells. It would have to be tonight, though it wrenched her heart, for she would leave by the first post in the morning. Anne was human enough not to want to see Lady Caroline's gloating face at the breakfast table, for undoubtedly the countess-to-be would ride over from the Anchorfords' at first light. She blew out the nursery room's taper, took one last look at the room, then walked slowly to the winding stairs on her left.
 
 
“You are engaged to be married, Lady Caroline! How very delightful!” The princess Esterhazy extended a leisurely hand. “And the diamonds are charming. Quite charming!”
“Yes, they are, are they not? Worth a quite extortionate amount I believe, but then, my betrothed has always been rather generous.”
“Has
he?” The princess looked interested, ever eager for a scent of scandal broth. If Lady Caroline had been accepting expensive gifts before she was engaged... .
Lady Dashford realized her mistake immediately. “Not that I have ever accepted anything beyond posies, you understand, but his reputation, as I am sure you know, speaks for itself.”
Princess Esterhazy raised her brows. Whatever reputation Sir Archibald Dalrymple had acquired, it certainly had little to do with generosity, or even with the happy circumstance of him being in funds. That was why it was so strange that he had decided to place the necklace into Lady Caroline's keeping. Still, she was not so uncivil as to say as much to his future bride. She merely nodded her head regally. “Well, my dear, when you are Lady Archibald Dalrymple, I shall take it upon myself to call upon you in Green Street.”
Lady Caroline nearly choked on her stuffed creole. “You are mistaken, Princess! I am
not
betrothed to Sir Archibald. I cannot imagine where you acquired such a notion! ”
“Why, from your necklace, of course! You are undoubtedly a lady, my dear Caroline. You would never accept such a gift from anyone other than your affianced, surely?”
“Yes, but ...”
“Well then, the diamonds belong to Sir Archibald, therefore ...”
“No!”
“I beg your pardon?”
“No! You are labouring under a misapprehension, Your Highness! Sir Archibald lost them to Lord Robert Carmichael two nights ago.”
“Tush and nonsense, my dear. The heat is probably addling your brains! I
deplore
these squeezes! However cold it is outside, one can be depended upon to positively
fry
indoors. So many people and all the flames ...”
Lady Caroline's mind was not on the weather. She had a dreadfully sinking feeling at the pit of her stomach and was determined to dispel her sudden fears immediately. Perhaps the princess was suffering from the heat. Certainly, she appeared quite appallingly confused... .
“Excuse me, Highness, I have just one or two matters I must attend to ...”
“Of course, my dear. You run along and enjoy yourself. Sir Archibald is out on the balcony. I know, for he has been staring after you this age at least.”
Lady Caroline stalked off. Sir Archibald, indeed! She would find Lord Robert and force him to declare himself at once. Where
was
the man?
“Lady Caroline, I have come to claim my dance.” Lord Willoughby extended a jovial, elegantly gloved hand.
“Not now, Lord Willoughby! I am trying to find—”
“Sir Archibald? I saw him on the balcony about two minutes ago. I must say, Lady Caroline, you are a very sly creature! I would never have thought that you and Dalrymple ...”
“Will you cease talking about Dalrymple? I have had him up to my ears! What is it with everybody?”
“But the necklace, Lady Caroline!”
“What
about
the necklace?” Lady Dashford lost some of her charm when she was angry. She didn't care. Lord Willoughby was small fish anyway.
“You accepted his necklace and announced your betrothal. It is a foregone conclusion—”
“To the Earl of
Edgemere,
you idiot! The necklace was regained by him almost immediately!”
“That is not what
I
hear!”
“Nor I.” Lord Anchorford calmly apologized for interrupting and accepted a strawberry from a passing footman. Lady Caroline noticed with exasperation that a small crowd was gathering about them and wished she had been calm enough to keep her voice down.
“Well, it is true. He told me so himself.”
“Told you what, Lady Dashford?” The earl seemed to appear as if from nowhere.
“You told me you had regained the diamonds.”
Lord Edgemere looked remarkably blank. “The diamonds?”
“These!” Caroline pointed to her neck, as if he was not already dazzled by the gems.
“Ah, those. Yes, they were a sad loss to me, I am afraid. In future I shall be more careful about how I gamble away my property. Nice evening, though, Anchorford!”
“Thank you! I fancy my guests were well entertained. . .”
Lady Caroline felt as though she were going mad. “Then, what is
this?
” She pulled the note from her bodice, and the company gasped at the outrageous display. A few, like Lord Willoughby, grabbed at their monocles, but too late. The note was withdrawn all too quickly.
“This?” Lord Anchorford wrenched the note from her hand. “It is something initialled AD ... now who could that be?”
“I do believe it is I! Archibald Dalrymple, you know.” Sir Archibald looked round apologetically. “I fear my handwriting was a little hasty ...”
Lady Caroline felt the room spinning.
Some of the primmer dowagers looked at each other significantly. Miss Wratcham stepped forward and glanced at the diamonds' clasp with interest. “Undoubtedly it is Sir Archibald's; I remember the design of that clasp distinctly. There can be no mistaking it!”
“Well, of course it is mine! I won it fair and square! You look wonderful in it, my dear. It is the perfect betrothal present, for I trust it shall remain in our family as an heirloom for years.”
Sir Archibald smiled fondly at Caroline. Edgemere had been convincing. She
was
a tidy little piece, and he would have the taming of her ... perhaps it would be all for the best. At least the diamonds would be safely in his possession again, for though he would not be able to sell them outright without a great deal of squawking from his lady wife, he would at least be able to get credit again. His possession of them was paramount.
“But—” Lady Caroline's lips sealed as she regarded some of the ton's highest sticklers. If she wailed that she had thought the gift from Lord Robert, they would be bound to ask her why she surmised that.
She could not tell them without mentioning previous indiscretions and losing what was left of her reputation entirely. No one would believe, by the odious way he was behaving, that Sir Archibald had never formally proposed and been accepted. Likewise, from Lord Robert's polite but distant manner, no one would consider for a moment that ... that ... at least she had the grace to blush. If society only knew! Still, she could not cry out over spilt milk.
Sir Archibald was eligible enough if she could not have Edgemere. She was getting on, after all ... then there were the diamonds ... if she refused Dalrymple, she would certainly have to return them... . She swallowed and took Sir Archibald's hand.
“I am afraid I am feeling a little faint from the crush, Sir Archibald! I fear I had the most
frightful
delusions just a moment ago.”
“There, there, dear, so long as you are recovering now. Perhaps I shall take you out onto the balcony for air? Can someone call a footman for some fruit punch? It is delectably refreshing, you know ...”
The crowd dispersed with the annoying feeling that it had just missed some quite delicious scandal Out of the corner of her eye, Lady Caroline could see Edgemere. He had his fist clenched across a marble balustrade, but other than that, his features were immobile. For an instant, their eyes met, and he doffed his impeccable tricorne just a little.
Damn his eyes! The man was not such a greenhorn, after all. He had won. Lady Caroline opened her fan and fluttered her lashes at Dalrymple. Edgemere would not have the satisfaction of seeing her rage. Even as he released his grip and made a polite bow to the Duke of Sedgewick, her tinkling laughter could be heard for several moments outside.
 
 
“Tom! Kitty!” Anne puzzled, for though they were undoubtedly abed, they seemed to be sleeping far deeper than usual. She crept in, wondering whether a new taper would startle them. Deciding they were made of sterner stuff, she lit one of the grander wax candles and set it by the beds. Still, they did not stir, but the soft glow shed by the light made the lumps in their beds look rather more suspicious than when she had first caught sight of them. Anne laughed, in spite of her woes.
She should have known! It was too much to expect them to go docilely to sleep with all the excitement below stairs. Never mind that Tom had just sustained a near disaster on Dartford, or that Mrs. Tibbet and she had done everything in their power to tire them out for the evening. The temptation would surely have tried the patience of saints, and dearly though she loved them, Anne knew at once that Tom and Kitty did not fall into that category.
She had better look lively, for there were any number of places they could be meddling in—the stables, the kitchens, heaven forbid, the dance areas themselves... . Anne blew out the candle and ran down the corridor. At the very least, she must alert the house staff. If she could find them herself, so much the better. At least she could keep them out of the more dire sorts of mischief There would be no returning them to their rooms, however.
That
would be too cruel!
She stopped a bit before opening the west wing door. It led off to some of the more public areas, and she was mindful of her dress. Just as well she had remained garbed in the satin. She would not look amiss in the hall, for in truth Mrs. Tibbet had chosen well. It fitted her admirably, and though the pretty satin slippers had been too large for her statuesque figure, the matching rose gloves had been perfect, as had the high waistband secured strikingly with ribbons of cherry rose. She had no adornments upon her throat or arms—these she had long since sold—but her hair was fashioned a la Psyche, with a single fern pressed in at the crown. The effect was devastatingly simple and breathtakingly beautiful, for the fern exactly complemented the tourmaline of her eyes and the cherry rose was a perfect foil to the raven-dark hair. She patted down her skirts and whisked a skein of hair from her eyes. She would have to do, she supposed, if someone caught sight of her. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door and began her quest.

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