What an Earl Wants (24 page)
The dowager countess could not be mistaken for forty, or even
fifty. She was not a young woman. But the traces of a once great beauty were
there, the eyes were as bright and mischievous as any
Incomparable.
She was petite, almost doll-like, her smile dazzling,
her every gesture as graceful as a prima ballerina trodding her own special
stage. Beatrix Redgrave would be beautiful to the world if she lived into her
nineties. And fascinating, always and forever, fascinating.
“I adore her, you know, but if one of those young idiots
produces a peeled grape for her, I don’t know that I’ll be able to keep from
giggling like a loon. Is she always this outrageous?”
“Sometimes it’s worse. I’m rather worried she’s celebrating
something tonight, something I probably don’t want to know,” Gideon whispered
back, raising his quizzing glass and skewering each young exquisite in turn,
until they all found reasons to take themselves off elsewhere. “Trixie? What new
delights are you selling tonight?”
“The same old delights, pet, those fuzzy-faced darlings are
simply a new audience. I’ve been reciting several of the sillier bits of John
Wilkes’s and Thomas Potter’s
An Essay on Women,
which as we know, turned poor Alexander Pope’s
An
Essay on Men
very much on its head. ‘The gasp divine, th’emphatic,
thrilling squeeze, the throbbing panting—’”
“I believe we’ve heard enough, thank you. You promised you
wouldn’t again go beyond
The Life and Adventures of
Miss
Fanny Hill.
That’s
education
enough for those young randy goats. Why do you persist on
doing this?”
Trixie shrugged her slim shoulders. “It amuses me? Or perhaps
to educate? You know how tedious it is to attempt to procure a copy of either
work, thanks to our prudish government. Darling, think of it. Half of those
young gentlemen soon will be off to the continent if Bonaparte’s ambitions can’t
be contained. When they’re cold and starving and wetting themselves with fear in
their trenches, let them think back to tonight and smile, remember what they are
really fighting and dying for. Or do you think it’s for green fields and white
cliffs, hmm?”
Jessica bit her bottom lip and looked down at her shoe
tops.
“Sally thinks you’re bedding them,” Gideon said gruffly.
“I always warned Silence is an idiot. I’m their
grandmother,
pet.” She shrugged again, and smiled.
“Albeit their
naughty
grandmother. You’re much in
looks tonight, Jessica. Good to know my grandson is no slowtop in the bridal
chamber. I recognize the glow, you understand.”
Jessica didn’t want to say thank you, she really didn’t. But
what else was there to say? “Thank you, Trixie.”
“Yes, and now down to business,” the dowager duchess said,
raising a lorgnette and scanning the perimeter of the ballroom. “Ah, still
there, where they were put. The obedience born of fear, I recognize that, as
well. I’ve been watching them for you. Gideon, behind you and to the left are
the pair of shrinking wallflowers you needs must introduce to your lady. And
there’s an empty seat beside them, which is perfect. The blonde dressed in
yellow—such an unfortunate choice, with her sallow coloring—is Lady Caro, Lord
Charles’s bride of less than a year, and beside her sits Felicity Urban, who
always looks as if she’s sucking a lemon. Their husbands put them there an hour
ago and then deserted them for the card room, which is where you should be
heading, pet, rather than standing there scowling at your naughty but brilliant
grandmother. Now go, shoo, and let me get back to my boys. I believe we left
poor Fanny lying on a couch, goggling at something quite new to her
experience.”
“I should lock you up in the dower house and throw the key in
the well, not to punish you, but to protect my fellow man.”
“Yes, yes, now go. Oh, but first, I believe I have some sad
news to impart. It would seem Wickham’s only son cocked up his toes early this
morning. Not that it wasn’t expected—that spotty liver, you’ll recall. Poor old
Reggie’s all in a dither, of course, most especially at being unable to locate
his grandson and now the heir to the dukedom. But I expect he’ll show up in a
day or two, don’t you? Perhaps even with a lovely surprise in tow?”
“I told Jessica you might be celebrating something tonight.
You’re a hard woman, Trixie,” Gideon said, shaking his head.
“Nonsense. I’ve already sent round a note of most sincere
condolence to the duke and duchess. Oh, and I shall be traveling to Wickham
Court for the interment, so if I don’t see you two again for space, try not to
behave yourselves.”
“You’ll attend the funeral? You really want to be on hand when
the duke learns about his
surprise?
”
“How could I not? I’ve already paid for the pleasure.”
“And now, so will the duke pay for his long-ago attack on the
Redgraves. I suppose some might call it justice,” Gideon said as he bowed over
Trixie’s hand once more and then offered his arm to Jessica. “Shall we?”
“We shall,” Jessica agreed, doing her best to pretend she
hadn’t seen the two women even as she and Gideon made a dead set toward them.
“May I ask what all that was about? Someone died?”
“Yes, someone certainly did, and Trixie is totally innocent of
that death, I’m happy to say. The next one? That one, at least indirectly, will
be her kill.”
Jessica looked back over her shoulder to see the flock of
regimental birds had come back to roost, gathering around the dowager duchess
once more, to Trixie’s laughing delight. “You’ll tell me about this
someday?”
“Someday. But for now, I’m putting you to work. I promise to
return within the quarter hour.” He drew her forward and bowed to the pair of
lonely-looking ladies, introducing his bride and begging they welcome her whilst
he adjourned to the card room to search out a few friends.
The ladies smiled and agreed, informed him that their own
husbands had already adjourned to the same place, and Jessica sat down beside
Felicity Urban, the older of the two by at least ten years.
A quarter hour wasn’t much time, not if she had to deal with
the usual inane pleasantries and comments on the sad crush of people, the heat
of the ballroom. She decided to go straight for the jugular.
“It’s vastly kind of you ladies to allow me to join you. I know
so few people in town, but my husband swears to me I’m not allowed in the card
room. I’m also forbidden to dance once the orchestra returns, as he’s quite the
jealous bridegroom. He can take umbrage if any other man so much as looks in my
general direction, for goodness’ sakes— Oh, should I have said that? Really,
it’s rather flattering, don’t you think? I wouldn’t want you ladies to believe
him oppressively possessive.”
“Better than the alternative,” Felicity Urban said, a trace of
bitterness—more than a trace, really—in her tone. “So you are newly married, my
lady.”
Mrs. Urban’s eyes seemed slightly unfocused, and her breath
smelled of laudanum overlaid with some sort of pungent spice. Jessica felt a
pang of pity for the woman.
“Very newly, yes. It’s all been such a mad rush. His lordship
went so far as to secure a Special License.”
Lady Caro leaned forward slightly, the better to see Jessica.
“We watched you on the dance floor. I nearly swooned to see the look in his
eyes, I will admit. He seems quite besotted.”
“That fades soon enough,” Mrs. Urban declared. “Enjoy it while
you might, my lady.”
“Yes, that’s true,” Lady Caro agreed, and then sighed.
Jessica summoned a smile. Lady Jersey had been quite correct in
her assessment of the two women. Lady Caro, the new bride, was definitely a
little mouse, and Mrs. Urban couldn’t be more sour. That the two women could be
friends seemed incongruous; they were as unalike as chalk and cheese. “Your
husbands are friends?” she asked before she could stop herself, or at the least,
find some smoother way into this leap in the conversation.
But Lady Caro didn’t seem to notice anything strange about the
question. “Oh, yes. We go everywhere together.”
“Everywhere,” Mrs. Urban repeated dully. “To balls, to the
theater, to country parties. Everywhere. Delightful times.”
Lady Caro flinched visibly, almost as if she’d been slapped.
“Do...do you enjoy the theater, my lady?”
“The earl tells me we have a box, but I’ve not attended a
performance as yet, I’m sorry to say. My life, as I’ve said, has been a
whirlwind of late. If you are soon to remove to the country, I do envy you. I’m
sure country parties are much more relaxing.”
Lady Caro’s smile was weak and rather trembling. “Yes, I
suppose so.”
Really, this was hard going. “Do you agree, Mrs. Urban?”
Felicity Urban appeared to be attempting to raise her eyebrows
but couldn’t seem to manage the act. “Do I agree with what, my lady?”
“Um...that country parties are relaxing.”
The woman turned hard brown eyes on Jessica, as if something
inside her just woke up and took notice. When she next spoke, her words couldn’t
be more affable. “Oh, yes, I very much agree. In fact, my husband and I are even
now planning a small get-together at our estate near Isleworth, quite a pleasant
day’s journey from London, I assure you. Please do give it your consideration.
It would be a lovely break from the hustle and bustle of the Season.”
“Felicity,” Lady Caro whispered hastily, “do you think...?”
Mrs. Urban’s voice had knives in it. “Yes, I do. You should
attempt the exercise.”
“I will, of course, be delighted to forward your kind
invitation to his lordship, Mrs. Urban,” Jessica said quickly, pretending not to
notice the new tension between the women. “How exceedingly kind of you. Other
than my husband, I have no real acquaintance, I’m afraid, having lived out of
the country for several years.”
“Ladies, your servant.”
At the sound of the man’s voice, Jessica saw Lady Caro reach
out her hand to clutch at that of Felicity Urban, as if seeking protection.
“My lord,” Mrs. Urban said, her previously strong voice
quavering slightly. “How condescending of you to notice us languishing here
amidst the potted palms. You know Lady Caro, of course, but please allow me to
introduce you to our new acquaintance, the Countess of Saltwood. My lady, may I
present Simon Ravenbill, Marquis of Singleton.”
Disappointed by the interruption, Jessica summoned a smile and
raised her head to see a magnificently constructed man, surely as tall as
Gideon, but light to her husband’s dark. His eyes, startlingly blue, his longish
hair nearly guinea gold. “My lord, it is an honor,” she said, quickly lowering
her eyes once more even as she offered her hand, prudently recalling Gideon’s
warning not to attempt to
bluff
anyone. Because her
mind had heard Ravenbill and immediately thought
Bird,
one of the names listed in her father’s journal.
But dear and merciful God, that had only been the half of
it!
“The honor is completely mine, my lady, I assure you. I arrived
only a few moments ago and have been punished ever since for my tardiness, as
the ballroom is abuzz at the news Saltwood has taken a wife. My further
punishment is that he saw you first, or else I would have stolen a march on him,
most definitely.”
Jessica smiled, as she knew she ought, even as she worried her
heart might leap out of her chest. “I don’t think my husband would have allowed
that, my lord. He’s quite the determined man.”
“Yes, we all know the stories of the infamous Redgraves. Such a
fortunate thing that dueling has been outlawed. Not that Redgraves concerned
themselves overmuch with the rules of the thing.”
Jessica felt her cheeks growing hot with indignation, her own
fears forgotten. “You’re no longer amusing, my lord.”
“Oh, no, my lady, don’t say that,” Lady Caro interrupted,
nearly pleaded. “I’m certain his lordship most certainly didn’t mean—”
“Ah, yet his lordship most certainly did,” the marquis
interrupted. “But I will take myself off now, mumbling insincere apologies as I
go. Ladies, my best to your husbands. Do tell them I will be seeing them at some
other time, as I’m always about somewhere, aren’t I?”
Jessica watched as the marquis bowed with much grace and some
insolence and then turned away, moving unerringly across the ballroom now
cluttered with couples taking up positions for the next dance, and heading
straight for the staircase. He didn’t look back. He didn’t have to. He had to
know her eyes had followed him.
“Well, whatever was all that about?” she asked the ladies,
struggling to compose herself. “He seemed so pleasant and then...well, and then
not quite so much.”
“The marquis is not known for his polite manner,” Felicity
Urban said. “He was a naval officer you know, a mere second son until his
brother’s death, and not at all suited to ascend to the title.”
“He
exudes
power, don’t you think?”
Lady Caro asked nervously, as if to counter Felicity’s complaint.
“I think you’ve been sneaking wine from the servant trays
again, and your brain has disconnected from your mouth,” Felicity Urban said,
turning her back to the woman, blocking Lady Caro from Jessica’s sight.
Suddenly, inexplicably, her eyes were alight with intelligence and perhaps some
desperation. “So you’ll consider joining us in Isleworth, my lady? I’ll send
round an invitation in the morning. Please do give it your attention. Your
immediate attention.”
“Yes, thank you, I’ll be certain to do that,” Jessica said, her
heart leaping as she saw Gideon striding toward her. She stood up to greet him
as would a stranded sailor at the sight of an approaching ship.
“I
S
SHE
ALWAYS
LIKE
THIS
?”
Richard Borders took another sip from his teacup and replaced
it on the tray in front of him. “You mean the pacing? Yes, I’m afraid so. Jess,
sweetheart, you’ll soon wear a rut in his lordship’s pretty carpet.”
It was after two, and Gideon was more than ready to say
goodnight so that he and Jessica could adjourn to his bedchamber. They had only
made love in hers, and it was time he introduced her to his, where she would
spend the majority of her nights in any case. He’d made a mistake, plunking her
down with the wives before he knew more about Lord Charles and Archie Urban. He
wanted to make amends, or at least divert her from her fears.
But Richard had still been awake when they’d returned to
Portman Square, and once she’d seen him she’d gone rushing toward him, to tell
him what had happened at Lady Jersey’s ball.
“Yes, Jessica, sit down,” Gideon said, not for the first time.
She was still the most beautiful woman in the universe, but she looked
exhausted, drained of her usual liveliness. “You can’t know he recognized you
any more than you can be certain it was him in the first place.”
She stopped her pacing at last and plopped herself down rather
inelegantly beside Richard, rather like a rag doll that had lost half its
stuffing. She took the man’s hand in hers. “But only because I’m exhausted. No,
Richard, I can’t be certain. And I kept my eyes down as much as possible. And it
was more than four years ago in any event. Still, those eyes—”
“And the man you speak of was wearing a French uniform when we
saw him,” Richard pointed out, again not for the first time. “Speaking flawless
French as he asked his questions.”
Gideon rubbed the brandy snifter between his hands. If Jessica
was correct, they may have just made a large leap forward. But at what cost? She
was obviously terrified; all the way home from the ball she’d been working her
hands together in her lap, clearly trying to hold on to her composure. Did he
need to remove Jessica and Richard from London before this Ravenbill fellow’s
mind could be jogged into remembering them? It seemed a prudent move. “Tell me
again if you please, Richard. From the beginning.”
Richard ran his fingers through his shock of white hair, as if
that might help put his thoughts in order.
“We’d traveled no more than a few miles’ distance from the inn
just outside Augsburg where we’d left Jamie, when we were stopped. This man,
this marquis, or so thinks Jess, was at the head of a small troop of Bonaparte’s
soldiers. They were everywhere in Bavaria, roaming quite freely, popping up in
city after city with rarely anyone attempting to stop them.”
“I looked so guilty,” Jessica said on a sigh, her head fallen
back against the cushions, her eyes closed. “I know I did. He wanted to know why
we were abroad so late at night, and with only the one horse. But Richard was
magnificent, he really was, and had an answer for every question. I was his
niece, our last name was Anderson, my horse had tripped and broken a foreleg so
that it had to be put down. We were actors on our way to rejoin our troupe in
the next village. On and on, just as calm as can be.”
“I wasn’t quite that brilliant,” Richard said, smiling. “I
really did think we’d come a cropper, but at last he let us go, advising we
consider the advantages to be had in emoting on the other side of the Channel
during such dangerous times, as the winds of change could otherwise blow with
some menace toward even the most honest of English citizens. We took his advice
and none too quickly, considering Bonaparte’s advances that came soon after.” He
turned toward Jessica. “Are you positive it was the same man?”
Jessica kept her eyes closed, clearly seeing something, or
someone, out of her past. “I told you. Those eyes. Even with only the moonlight
to see him by, a person could never look into those eyes and forget them.”
“Ravenbill,” Gideon said consideringly. “I vaguely remember the
brother, the late marquis, but not this Simon fellow. Ravenbill. Bird. And you
said Lady Caro was in awe?”
Jessica sat forward, tucking her legs up beneath her gown.
“What she actually said was that he exudes power. What struck me most was the
way she grabbed onto Mrs. Urban’s hand, as if afraid. Felicity Urban was so
here-and-there, so obviously dosed with laudanum, I’m not certain
what
she thought of the man, or of me. At one point
she seemed to be measuring me, as if attempting to calculate my worth to her.
Believe me, I’ve seen
that
look before, as
well.”
“And I apologize that you were forced to confront it tonight.
But again, her ladyship seemed frightened by the man?”
“Yes, I would have to say that’s true. Neither of them was
delighted to see him. He was...insolent. And he made a point of telling them to
remind their husbands that he’s always about somewhere. Perhaps he meant for me
to remind you, as well. I can’t say that for certain, however. Honestly, Gideon,
I’m not prone to hysterics, but I had to fight to remain in my chair. Especially
when he insulted your family.”
“But not to my face,” he reminded her. “At least our brash
marquis shows some intelligence. Or he may have left the insult as a form of
calling card. At any rate, if we Redgraves were thought to be harmless,
upstanding pillars of the
ton,
we’d be even more
insulted. Not to mention bored.”
Richard chuckled into his teacup.
“I’m so happy you’re amused, Richard,” Jessica said testily.
“And don’t encourage him, he’s arrogant enough as it is. You have no idea what
it was like tonight. A London ball is much like being tossed into a nest of
vipers. Every word seems to contain two meanings.”
Richard patted her hand. “Well, I’m sure you did just fine,
Jess. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m for my bed.”
Gideon lifted his hand to signal his agreement with Richard’s
departure and then took up the seat he’d just vacated. “I had an interesting
conversation tonight myself, with the husband of one of your new bosom
chums.”
“Those two women are not my bosom chums,” Jessica protested.
“Lady Caro is such a poor, whipped creature, and Felicity Urban, if I’m not
being too fanciful, invited us to be guests at one of their horrible
gatherings.”
“The cheek of the woman, to think I’d share you,” Gideon said,
and then held up his hands in case Jessica decided to attack him.
But Jessica only sighed. “She ran so hot and cold. One moment
as if in a daze, the next all cheery and friendly. And then, just at the end,
there was a moment...”
Gideon lifted her hand to his mouth and pressed a kiss against
her heated skin. “Yes?”
“She’s sending round an invitation tomorrow. I am to read it
immediately.
Really, it was as if she were
giving me an order.” Jessica laid her head against his shoulder, her entire body
sagging in fatigue. “I felt horribly sorry for them, they’re both so clearly
unhappy. Did you learn anything from their husbands? You haven’t said.”
“I haven’t been given the chance to say anything,” he pointed
out as he gathered her into his arms and stood up, having decided to adjourn to
his bedchamber before she fell asleep against his shoulder. “However, I did
manage to corral Archie Urban for five minutes. He said something
interesting.”
Jessica wound her arms around his neck. “I’d say I’m too heavy
for you and you should put me down, but I’m too selfish. I can’t even remember
when last I slept, thanks to you. But tell me, what did he say?”
“I interrupted a conversation he was having with a few other
gentlemen as they waited for an opening at one of the tables. Urban was offering
the opinion Emperor Napoleon is a genius. Tactically, politically. His recent
marriage to Austria’s Marie Louise a stroke of brilliance, et cetera. I raised
my quizzing glass—an affectation, I know, but often quite effective—and asked if
surely he meant
evil
genius, which he immediately
agreed he did. However, I was left with the impression he was soliciting
opinions, and one or two actually had agreed with him before I stepped in.”
“Are you saying Mr. Urban was sniffing the air, looking for
like minds?”
“Oh, very good, Jessica. You’re better at this than you
supposed.”
“Thank you.” Jessica turned her face into his chest to cover
her yawn. “And that was all?”
“There was a little more. A few discreet inquiries inform me
Urban’s responsibility is to see our troops quietly massing on the Peninsula are
supplied adequately and in a timely fashion. Weapons, ammunition, foodstuffs,
blankets, all funneled into Portugal, most especially into Lisbon. We’re
preparing to go back at it with Bonaparte in full force once we’re assured of
Spanish cooperation, that’s clear enough. An army is nothing without supplies.
Knowing what we think we may know about the man, I find that unsettling.”
He put her down once they reached his bedchamber, and he began
the pleasurable job of acting as lady’s maid for his bride.
“I find it unsettling that you were able to learn so much so
quickly and easily. Why on earth would anyone tell you about—what was it you
said?—a massing of troops on the Peninsula?”
“What? I’m not a man who inspires trust?”
She turned to face him, holding up her now unbuttoned gown, her
nearly bared breasts distracting him mightily. “I believe you could coolly bluff
your way into forcing your opponent to foolishly declare he can win the
Misère Ouverte,
and then make certain he doesn’t take
more than three tricks. I would never play whist against you, or any other card
game. Or any game at all, for that matter. Now tell me how you learned what you
learned.”
“Spencer Perceval is a friend,” Gideon told her, guiding her to
a chair so that he could help her off with her shoes and stockings.
“The Prime Minister? Really? Well, now I am impressed.”
“You’re weren’t before?” he asked, grinning up at her. “But
much as I’d like to take the credit, it’s Max we have to thank for Perceval.
He’s worked with him a time or two, on other matters. We all know how it is,
Jessica. Even when we’re not formally at war with Napoleon, we’re at war with
Napoleon, truces be damned.”
Jessica stood up and allowed Gideon to help her step out of her
gown. She wasn’t being immodest, or coy, or anything that would give Gideon any
reason for hope. She was simply a woman anxious for her bed. He may as well have
been Mildred, he realized with some chagrin.
“You’ve called Max an adventurer, and now you tell me he’s
performed services for our Prime Minister. Are you next going to tell me that
Val is secretly working for the War Office or some such thing?”
He turned her about and headed her toward his turned-down bed,
clad now only in her silk French drawers, following behind her to take the pins
from her hair. “Valentine? I’d as much attempt to tell you I’m one of
Liverpool’s advisers.”
It wasn’t an answer, but he hadn’t wished to give her an
answer.
He watched, in some admiration, as Jessica crawled onto the bed
and pulled the covers over her. “I’m not that silly. You don’t take orders from
anyone.” She turned her back to him and sighed. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed
you didn’t answer my question about Valentine. But I’m too exhausted right now
to care. Good night.”
So much for his supposed genius....
Gideon stripped off his clothing and joined her, pressing
himself up against her back, curving his body to mimic her bent-knee position.
“You do realize you’re in my bed, madam?”
He felt her body stiffen slightly, imagined her eyes going wide
as she belatedly took in her surroundings. “Oh, God, I am, aren’t I?”
“Yes,” he spoke against her hair. “And I promised you some
detailed groveling, I believe.”
“Gideon, you could recite lines from this
Fanny Hill
Trixie spoke of while hanging from one of the bedposts
with a rose clamped in your jaws, and I will still be asleep in the next two
minutes.”
He slid his arm around her, to cup her breast, rub the pad of
his thumb lightly across her nipple. “Are you quite certain?” he asked, smiling
in the near dark.
She turned onto her back and looked up into his eyes. “Oh,
good, you’re not being serious.” Then she turned onto her side once more. “Good
night, Gideon.”
Gideon had never shared a bed with a woman unless he was, well,
bedding her. Now here he was, in bed with his brand-new bride, and he hadn’t so
much as been offered a kiss good night. He’d been rather cavalierly dismissed,
actually.
He thought about this for a while and then realized he was
listening to the sound of Jessica’s soft, even breathing. He liked the sound. He
liked listening to it. He liked being where he was, with her, even if that only
meant they were together. He didn’t need more than that. Even in the midst of
all he supposed, all that may pose danger to them, to England itself if he was
right, he was content. Just to be here. Just to listen to his wife breathe.
How strange...
* * *
“
H
E
KNOWS
WHAT
HE
’
S
ABOUT
under the
blankets, don’t he, my lady? And that’s fine, it is, for you. But he doesn’t
know much about what it takes to press the wrinkles out of a fancy gown, oh, no,
he doesn’t. Will you have a talk with his lordship about that, ma’am? Doreen
fair to cried when she saw your gown this morning.”
Jessica was caught between pointing out to Mildred that she
didn’t wish to discuss her husband’s prowess
under the
blankets
and the fact that poor Doreen seemed to be paying the price
for that prowess. “I’ll see what I can do,” she said as the maid ran the sea
sponge over her shoulders. “And I apologize again that the two of you waited up
until three for me last night. It was highly inconsiderate of me.”
