The Nobody: Signet Regency Romance (InterMix) (12 page)

She smiled brightly. “Why, you must see to it that Ned and I are thrown together, of course.”

Caitlin gave a tiny gasp, and Richard stared at his sister in disbelief. “Do you mean to tell me that you haven’t divulged this little plan to Ned?” he demanded. “Serena, I could shake you!”

Caitlin was inclined to agree. “Really, Serena, it’s too bad! You mustn’t playact when it comes to matters of the heart. What if poor Mr. Montague came to believe you cared for him?”

Lord Kilverton seemed much struck. “Yes, by Jove! You can’t suddenly start making sheep’s eyes at Ned. What a scare you would give him! Poor fellow might feel obliged to fly the country, you know, or put a period to his existence—”

Serena flushed. “It’s all very well for you to laugh. People aren’t saying spiteful things about
you
behind your back. All the hateful tabbies, whispering behind their fans—telling one another I’ve played the fool—thrown myself at a man who won’t have me—” Sudden tears sprang to Serena’s eyes. “Well, I
will
tell Ned Montague, so there! He won’t care a snap of his fingers for anything people may say. He’ll help me, even if my own brother won’t!”

She turned to flounce away, but Richard caught her hand, stopping her for a moment. He grinned affectionately into the stormy face turned up to his. “Chin up, Serena! You’ll come about.”

She managed to smile a little, her crossness dissipating. “Shall I, do you think?”

Kilverton flicked Serena’s cheek carelessly with one finger. “Yes, I do. Now, head up, and tail over the dashboard! Ned’s by the punch bowl.”

Serena laughed saucily, and sailed off. Caitlin gazed worriedly after her. “Lord Kilverton, do you think this scheme of hers is wise?”

“Wise? Of course not. I am not even sure it will be effective. The worst of the gossips will see through it. Those who don’t will probably talk about her all the more. And it makes my hair stand on end to picture the lengths Serena might go if Ned encourages her—which I’ll be bound he will, the rascal! Thank God Almack’s serves nothing stronger than negus.”

Caitlin was a little shocked. “Surely, if Serena approaches him in friendship, Mr. Montague will not be so lost to all sense of propriety as to take advantage of the situation.”

“Oh, will he not? You don’t know Ned!” replied Ned’s friend. “He’s the best of good fellows, of course, but ripe for any mischief! I must have a word with him, or he’s liable to—how shall I put it? Embrace Serena’s idea—enthusiastically!”

“Oh, dear!” said Caitlin faintly.

There was a stir behind them and they turned to see Captain Philip Talgarth, the light playing beautifully on his gleaming blond head, entering the room. He seemed completely unconscious of the flutter he was causing among a small group of females gathered near the door. Lord Kilverton raised his quizzing glass and viewed Captain Talgarth through it dispassionately.

“When one comes to regard him, he is a rather good-looking fellow. Unfortunate! Is anyone likely to believe, do you think, that Serena’s affections
could
be estranged from such a pretty face?”

Caitlin laughed. “Certainly! One does not fall in love with a face, after all.”

“I am glad to hear you say so,” said Kilverton. His tone was so odd, she looked up at him inquiringly. His eyes held hers. “Now that you put me in mind of it, Miss Campbell, I agree with you. One does not fall in love with a face. In fact, it is possible for people to fall in love without seeing each other at all. I know a case where a man fell in love with a voice, and a manner, and a tiny glimpse of his beloved’s soul.”

Her mind went swiftly back to a darkened street and a kiss from an invisible stranger who, even then, felt like no stranger at all. Pain caught at her heart. “They do say love is blind,” she said faintly.

Kilverton’s eyes still held hers, steadily. “The gentleman I speak of was only blind until he met you, Miss Campbell.”

She could mistake his meaning no longer. Caitlin stared, transfixed, into the hazel eyes so close to hers. There was a strange roaring in her ears; she could feel her pulse beating in her throat. A mingled rush of joy and sorrow paralyzed her; she could not speak.

The sweet tones of a violin reached them as the orchestra embarked on a waltz.

“My dance, I think, Miss Campbell,” whispered Lord Kilverton, and took her in his arms.

Chapter XV

Against the wall at Almack’s Assembly Rooms, in a row of chairs reserved for matrons and chaperons, sat one Lady Markham. This lady had once cherished hopes of obtaining an offer from Richard Kilverton for her daughter Anne’s hand. Those hopes had proved as vain as they were short-lived, but she bore him no ill will; Anne had not worn the willow long. Lady Markham liked Lord Kilverton, although she did not care for his choice of bride. Hard to believe Kilverton could choose Lady Elizabeth, that colorless shrew, over her own sweet Anne—but ah, well! There is no accounting for tastes, after all.

Lady Markham now sat beside the woman whose maternal ambitions in that quarter had been fulfilled: Her Grace, the Duchess of Arnsford. Elizabeth would be exactly like her in twenty years or so! thought Lady Markham. Heavens, what a fate for that handsome scapegrace, Kilverton!

As if conjured up by her thoughts, Lord Kilverton waltzed gracefully past them with a tall young woman whose flaming hair irresistibly drew the eye. The expression on Lord Kilverton’s face as he gazed at his partner was quite unmistakable—and also drew the eye.

The two ladies beheld this interesting picture with various emotions, all admirably concealed. Although deeply shocked, Lady Markham was conscious of feeling a most reprehensible glee. A scandal was brewing, or she missed her guess! She glanced covertly at the duchess, whom she cordially disliked, and thought she saw that lady stiffen—although Her Grace’s calm expression never altered.

Lady Markham could not resist. She would speak.

“How well Lord Kilverton dances, Your Grace! Lady Elizabeth is fortunate.”

The duchess’s thin lips twisted into a perfunctory smile. “Yes, indeed.” The two women continued to watch Kilverton and his partner, the duchess with a faintly bored air belied by the muscles tensing in her jaw, and Lady Markham now obviously, and quite frankly, agog.

Lady Markham tried again. “I don’t believe I’ve met his partner. Is she one of your party, Your Grace?”

A spasm of annoyance crossed Her Grace’s well-bred features. How much she disliked that gossiping simpleton, Janet Markham! Look at her now, fairly panting with curiosity! What was one to say to the creature? The duchess had been even more shocked than Lady Markham, and far less agreeably, by the sight of her daughter’s fiancé waltzing so extremely well with an unknown redhead. Her mind was awhirl with alarm and conjecture, but she was not one to lose her head in a crisis. She maintained her air of indifference and replied repressively.

“I believe that may be a certain Miss Campbell I have heard Elizabeth mention. The Misses Campbell are friends of Lord Kilverton’s sister.” The duchess placed a slight emphasis on the latter information, and had the satisfaction of seeing Lady Markham’s expression lose a little of its avidity.

“Oh!” said Lady Markham, deflated a trifle. “Yes, I think I may have heard Anne speak of her.” She gazed thoughtfully at the dancing couple and felt a twinge of sympathy for the pair. Whatever the duchess may choose to believe, Lord Kilverton was not dancing with this girl merely to oblige his sister. He appeared quite spellbound. And the poor girl seemed equally smitten. How sad.

There could be no future in it, of course. One could only hope they would soon recover. If her recollections of what Anne had said were accurate, this Miss Campbell was some connection of that silly woman the late Baron Lynwood had married—in fact, she was nobody at all. Even if Kilverton were free, it would be a most unequal match. And yet Miss Campbell was well-connected enough to be found at Almack’s, which certainly precluded Kilverton from setting her up as his
chère-amie.
It was all utterly hopeless.

Meanwhile, the Duchess of Arnsford, behind the, mask of her impassive face, was racking her brain to recall what Elizabeth had told her of this girl. Kilverton’s unknown partner had to be Miss Campbell. Elizabeth had expressed great concern that her future sister-in-law was being drawn into friendship with a social-climbing, carrot-topped Long Meg possessing no connections of any importance. The duchess instantly recognized this individual in the person now clasped in Lord Kilverton’s arms. This naturally made her wonder if Elizabeth had additional reasons for disliking Miss Campbell, but she swiftly dismissed the idea as unworthy of her daughter. However, it clearly behooved Elizabeth’s mother to drop a word of warning in her daughter’s ear. Her Grace determined to do this before the night was out.

Lady Elizabeth was summoned to her mother’s dressing room shortly after midnight. She found the duchess seated before her mirror, leisurely removing the diamond drops from her ears, while Sturby, her dresser, hovered nearby. When Her Grace dismissed Sturby before her usual tasks were completed, Elizabeth knew that whatever her mother had to say to her was of a serious nature. However, the duchess continued her unhurried preparations for bed. Her expression was unfathomable as her steely eyes met Elizabeth’s in the looking glass.

“It is a pity you did not accompany us to Almack’s this evening, Elizabeth.”

One of Elizabeth’s finely arched brows lifted slightly. “Indeed, ma’am? I am glad your evening was agreeable.”

“I would not characterize the evening I have just spent as ‘agreeable,’ ” said the duchess coldly. “I meant that
had
you made one of the party, we might all have been spared such an evening as I hope never to repeat! I see no reason to mince words with you, daughter. Tell me at once: is it your intention to whistle Lord Kilverton down the wind?”

Elizabeth’s eyes widened. “Certainly not! I had a touch of headache tonight—”

“Rubbish!” snapped Her Grace. “Pray do not fence with me, Elizabeth. When you announced you were staying home this evening, I believed your decision had something to do with Lord Kilverton. Have you quarreled with him?”

Elizabeth gave a tinkling little laugh. “Oh, as to that, ma’am, I assure you there is no cause for alarm! You may have noticed he has been absent from my side of late; I merely wished to give him a taste of his own medicine. I promise you I don’t mean to
quarrel
with him! I am only venturing to give him a hint, you know. Kilverton is no fool. I trust his lesson may be learned and he will give me no cause to continue the experiment.”

The duchess dropped her earrings into her jewel case with a decided snap. “You would be very ill-advised to continue the experiment! I wish you would discuss these ventures of yours with me before you begin them. You have very little experience in such matters, and it’s my belief your conduct has been most injudicious. You are playing a dangerous game, Elizabeth. I perfectly understand your desire to get the upper hand before you are married, but you are correct that Kilverton is no fool. He is also no weakling, and these misguided attempts to lead him by the nose may well prove fatal.”

Elizabeth’s eyes flashed. “Fatal, ma’am? To what? I beg your pardon, but my position is unassailable. I am securely betrothed to Lord Kilverton, after all! And as to getting the upper hand, I am distressed that you suspect me of harboring such an improper and unfeminine desire.”

Exasperated, the duchess turned from her own reflection to face her daughter. “The desire for power is common to both sexes, Elizabeth, and is found inevitably in persons of your temperament! Do not misunderstand me. I do not accuse you of browbeating Lord Kilverton, nor am I afraid you will openly quarrel with him. Such a course would be as disastrous as it would be improper, and I am persuaded you are well aware of that. However, your personality is strong, and your temper has always been your besetting sin. Take care you do not lose it! I believe Kilverton will not hesitate to look elsewhere for a bride if you fly into one of your ungovernable rages before the knot is tied. And I rather fancy he will not have far to seek for your replacement.”

Elizabeth’s eyes narrowed. “What does that mean, pray?” The duchess’s gaze became searching. “Is it possible you do not know?”

“Know? What is there to know?”

Her Grace compressed her lips into a thin line, and thought for a moment before she spoke. “It is extremely distasteful to me to voice my suspicions to you, Elizabeth. Pray believe I would not do so if I did not believe it to be my duty. You are a sensible young woman, so I trust you will not make a piece of work about the subject I must introduce.”

The duchess stared frowningly at her nails, no longer meeting Elizabeth’s eyes. “You are aware that marriage, among persons of our order, is the only honorable means for a woman to achieve any position of consequence in the world. Your rank has made it difficult for you to achieve an alliance worthy of your lineage and your personal gifts. We had hoped to secure the Duke of Blenhurst for you—but that was not to be. I will not hide from you that Lord Kilverton’s offer removed a great weight from my mind. I have been pleased that in addition to his other advantages, Kilverton appears to have a steadiness of character that I trust will minimize—” The duchess hesitated briefly. Her eyes flicked to Elizabeth’s then slid away. “Minimize, as I say, those unpleasant episodes of infidelity that can be so humiliating. Men’s natures are a mystery to us, my dear, and incredible as it may seem, they actually
enjoy
—well, never mind! Should Kilverton indulge in any amorous adventures after you are married, I feel sure you will take care to know nothing about it, as befits your station. However! Any appearance of interest in a female other than yourself while he is
engaged
to you cannot be tolerated.”

Elizabeth paled at these dreadful words. “Are you saying—can it be possible—Mother, I beg you to be frank with me! Have you any reason to think—?”

Now that they had returned to safer ground, the duchess allowed herself to look directly at her daughter once more. Her voice was firm, and very cold. “Yes, my love, I am very much afraid your fiancé is finding himself strongly attracted to Another. I put it no higher than that. I trust you will easily be able to turn his mind back to you, where his duty lies. But you must tread wisely, Elizabeth! For Heaven’s sake, don’t cross him now! You must give him no opportunity to regret his betrothal.”

Horrified, Elizabeth sank into a chair and gripped her fingers in her lap, thinking swiftly. Her mother must have seen Richard with someone tonight. She dreaded knowing the girl’s identity, but only one name leaped to mind. “Miss Campbell,” she whispered numbly.

“From your description of her, I believe so. A tall girl, red-haired. Not uncomely, I regret to say.”

“But he would never
jilt
me! It is impossible!”

Her mother waved a hand in impatient dismissal. “Of course it is impossible! He is a gentleman, after all, so naturally his hands are tied. Were he tempted to do anything so outrageous, the thought of how such a scandal must affect his family—why, everyone would cut his acquaintance, and I daresay the unpleasantness would extend to his mother and sister—oh, no! It is indeed impossible. Were you the veriest Nobody, it would be dreadful. Since you are who you are, it is utterly unthinkable.”

The duchess rose gracefully, her dressing gown billowing, and laid a manicured hand on her daughter’s tense shoulder. “I merely warn you, Elizabeth, so that you may be a little more conciliating. I greatly fear that you are vexing him by continually setting up your opinions in opposition to his—and pray do not waste my time telling me you have not done so! He cannot jilt you, but he may seek to convince you to cry off. It would not astonish me to learn that his recent neglect of you has been part of such an attempt. Take care! You are five-and-twenty, Elizabeth. If you break this engagement, you will wear the willow all your days.”

Elizabeth’s hands clenched tightly. A terrifying vista opened before her imagination: endless years of spinsterhood; jokes made at her expense; herself and her noble family the objects of pity, ridicule, and scorn; whispers, gossip, scandal! She took a deep and shaky breath, fighting to control the sickening rage that swept through her. It must not be!

She lifted her chin and met her mother’s level gaze. Two pairs of ice blue eyes, exactly like each other, locked in perfect understanding. “I am very much obliged to you, Mother,” said Elizabeth steadily.

The duchess inclined her head briefly, satisfied with the outcome of the interview. She gave Elizabeth’s shoulder an approving pat and returned to her dressing table. Elizabeth curtsied deeply to her mother and exited, closing the door softly behind her.

Her Grace’s lips curved slightly as she unpinned her hair. Elizabeth was hot-tempered, but she was not stupid. There would be no breath of scandal attached to the illustrious name of Delacourt. And the matrimonial ambitions of Elizabeth and her mama would be achieved before the year was out.