The Worldly Widow (38 page)

Lady Diana
'
s smile was dazzling. "Haven
'
t I just told you so? David would be wasted on a lady like you.
"

"I beg your pardon?
"

"When did
your
roof last leak?
"

"It never leaks,
"
answered Annabelle in some confusion. Nor was it ever like to. With her usual foresight, Annabelle engaged the slater twice a year to give her roof a thorough going-over.

"Well, there you are, then,
"
crowed the lady. "What use have you for a man?
"

"Very little,
"
answered Annabelle, smiling as comprehension dawned. "Perhaps I should offer for you myself.
"

"That
'
s what David said.
"

"What?
"

"But I told him you and I should not suit.
"

"Why shouldn
'
t we?
"
asked Annabelle, beginning to wonder if she too had become as mad as a hatter.

"Because you
'
re not tall, dark, and handsome, and you don
'
t have broad shoulders, that
'
s why,
"
reposited Lady Diana and laughing, quickly decamped for greener pastures.

"Sly puss,
"
said Annabelle to herself, and could not make up her mind whether to admire the lady for her animal cunning or be offended by it.

The gentlemen arrived soon after. Annabelle pretended an interest in a journal she had picked up, but she was aware of Dalmar
'
s every move. He chose to sit by her, but she gave him no credit for this singular attention. On entering, every other gentleman had made a beeline for Lady Diana, and the barrier around her was almost impregnable.

She thought that the smile he angled her was particularly cozening. "You were too tardy,
"
she said pertly, glancing meaningfully at the group surrounding Lady Diana. "It
'
s the early bird that catches the worm, Dalmar.
"

"I didn
'
t invite her,
"
he said, ignoring the bait. "She
'
s just too hen-witted to know when she
'
s not wanted.
"

"Well someone must have given her directions or she would not be here,
"
replied Annabelle reasonably.

"What I mean to say is, she would not take no for an answer. It would have been heartless in me to refuse her. Diana has so few friends.
"

Looking significantly at the group by the piano, Annabelle
murmured, "There were eight, last time I counted.
"

"Is she stealing your thunder? Is that why you
'
ve worn a face that could sour milk since she arrived?
"

"No, that
'
s not why,
"
said Annabelle, stiffening up in spite of her resolve to appear casual. "And she
'
s not stealing my thunder.
"

"Oh?
"
He let his eyes wander to the laughing group by the piano. "Better look to your laurels, Annabelle. Even
'
The Milksop
'
has deserted you for Lady Diana.
"

"I am not so petty as to begrudge that pea goose the admiration of a gaggle of featherbrained cloth-heads,
"
disclaimed Annabelle pettishly.

"But a
beautiful
pea goose, you will allow,
"
responded Dalmar, leering. "And with the male of the species, when beauty and intelligence in a woman are put on the scales, beauty tips the balance every time. I
'
m speaking generally, of course. A connoisseur such as myself has a more discriminating palate.
"

In Annabelle
'
s eyes, Dalmar
'
s stock stood at an all-time low. Using every trick in the book, he
'
d tried to take Monique Dupres
'
s diaries away from her. Behind her back he
'
d bought into her company and had dared to tell her how to run her business. He
'
d tried to bribe her. When all else had failed, he
'
d employed common criminals to steal what rightfully belonged to her. His nefarious methods might easily have cost her her life. Even his lovemaking was suspect. Every instinct urged her to throw his transgressions in his face. But Annabelle was too experienced a player to give her hand away. Her revenge would come later, with the publication of the French girl
'
s memoirs. Let him gloat for the present. His victory would be short-lived. But oh how she longed to wipe that confident smirk from his face.

"A connoisseur of women? Is that how you see yourself?
"
asked Annabelle, trying for a coquettish air.

"Can you doubt it when I
'
ve chosen you for my consort?
"

"But then, I
'
m not in your usual style, am I, Dalmar?
"

"Beg pardon?
"

Annabelle glanced around to see if they were being overheard by anyone. She lowered her voice and said confidingly, "Your
preference in ladies—you
'
ll observe I
'
m too well bred to call a spade a spade.
"

Cautiously, he asked, "Annabelle, what are we talking about?
"

"Carlotta, Mimi, Rosa, Yvette, not to mention a string of lesser Paphians,
"
she answered, her smile cloying. "Beautiful red-headed widgens, every last one of
'
em. You should have run true to form, Dalmar. With a lady who can put two and two together, you
'
re out of your depth.
"

Inwardly, Dalmar winced, but he essayed brazenly, "I see you
'
ve blown my cover. Lucky for me you
'
re a woman of the world, or so you boast. It
'
s not every bride who would view her intended
'
s past indiscretions with equanimity.
"

"No, nor be subjected to every intimate detail of his debauchery. How did you come by the nickname, by the by? 'Sir Spider
'
seems an odd name for a lecher.
"

Aggrieved at this show of malice, he said, "I thought you had a soft spot for 'Sir Spider.
'
As I remember, you said that he was an attractive rogue with no malice in him.
"

"No, nor scruples either,
"
said Annabelle. "But at least I
'
ve solved the mystery of your interest in the diaries. It was your own good name that you wished to protect all along.
"

"You do me an injustice,
"
he told her stiffly.

"
That
'
s not all I
'
d like to do you,
"
he thought he heard her say, but at that moment Lady Diana called him to the piano, and he left his betrothed with noticeable alacrity.

This unpromising beginning between Annabelle and Dalmar set the tone for the days which followed. They bickered constantly, so much so that Dalmar began to give Annabelle a wide berth. No one who did not know them would have taken them for an engaged couple. Lady Diana was Dalmar
'
s most devoted companion and where Annabelle was, Lord Temple was never far distant.

"What
'
s going on?
"
asked Bertie of Annabelle as the ladies made an outing to Brighton to do a little shopping. Sir Charles and the gentlemen of the party were out shooting for the morning.

"I might ask you the same question,
"
said Annabelle pointedly. It had not escaped her notice that Colonel Ransome
and her friend became as stiff as pokers in each other
'
s vicinity. "Who is this Ransome, anyway, and what is he to you?
"

In normal circumstances, Annabelle would never have lowered herself to ask such a personal question. On this occasion, she wanted only to evade Bertie
'
s searching glances and keen intelligence. She had taken no one into her confidence regarding her suspicions about who had stolen the diaries. It wasn
'
t that she wished to protect Dalmar, she told herself. It was her own gullability that she wished to conceal. He
'
d made a laughingstock of her once too often.

As evasive as Annabelle, Bertie replied, "I don
'
t know what you mean.
"

The rest of the journey was made in silence. At the Old Ship Inn on Ship Street, three coaches from Rosedale disgorged their passengers. The ladies divided into small groups and agreed to meet at the inn for luncheon. By unspoken, common consent, the older ladies, that is Annabelle, Bertie, and Henrietta, detached themselves from the more boisterous younger group, of which Lady Diana was the undisputed ringleader.

"I don
'
t think they
'
ve got a grain of sense among the lot of them,
"
said Henrietta absently as she stood watching the bevy of beauties cavort the length of Ship Street.

"I have it on good authority,
"
said Annabelle wisely, "that such things weigh little with the male of the species.
"

"Little is the word for it,
"
added Bertie. "A more empty-headed gaggle of widgeons I
'
ve never met up with, no, nor ever wish to.
"

"Were the young always so young, or are we just getting older?
"
mused Henrietta rhetorically.

The three ladies exchanged glances.

"Old tabby cats, that
'
s what we are,
"
said Henrietta, smiling.

"Green with envy,
"
agreed Bertie.

"Speak for yourselves,
"
reproved Annabelle. "How old are we—thirty, give or take a year or two?
"

"I
'
ll never see thirty again,
"
said Henrietta.

"All right, all right! So
I
exaggerated a little. But we
'
re a long
way yet till we reach our dotage. Good grief, those babies can
'
t hold a candle to us!
"

"Prove it,
"
said Bertie, pulling a long face.

For a long moment, Annabelle stared at her companions. Finally, a slow smile curved her lips. "Follow my lead,
"
she said, and linked arms with her friends.

With a newfound camaraderie they turned toward the warren of narrow lanes which ran off Ship Street, an unaccustomed recklessness lighting their steps. They trudged from shop to shop making a game of the outing. They exclaimed over bonnets they would normally never be caught dead in. They swathed themselves in transparent satins and cooed over black silk drawers imported from France. They tried out walking sticks and looked over bath chairs. They giggled and simpered and flirted brazenly with shopkeepers, scandalizing Brighton
'
s more sober residents. On King
'
s Road they came across a dress shop displaying gowns of a decidedly flagrant color and cut.

"We shouldn
'
t,
"
said Henrietta, halting Annabelle
'
s move toward the doors. "I
'
ve heard of this place. The clientele are not the sort that a lady would care to meet in her drawing room.
"

"So much the better,
"
said Annabelle with relish, and shepherded her reluctant companions over the threshold.

Annabelle boldly advanced into the center of the shop. Henrietta hung back, her eyes moving uneasily over the several flamboyant though indisputably modishly clad customers who were waited on by a bevy of young clerks. Her eyes came to rest on the tall, voluptuous form of a lady who was in the process of purchasing a beige pelisse trimmed lavishly with leopard skin. The eyes of the two women met and held. Henrietta stiffened. Annabelle noted the silent exchange and looked curiously at Henrietta.