Wife Errant (17 page)

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Authors: Joan Smith

Tags: #Regency Romance

BOOK: Wife Errant
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“Oh, no! Truly, I
was
at my wits’
end. It was the answer to a prayer when you appeared.”

“Doing it too brown, Tess.”
He laughed. “The reason I came ... I want to hear from the horse’s mouth just what happened last night after James left. Your mama and Dulcie were twittering so ...”

Horse’s mouth!
It was hard to go on flattering, him after this blunt speech, but she carried on gamely. "Things were not going too badly while Lord James was here. He is a complete hand, Revel. He said he was only a friend of the family, lending Mama his support at this difficult time. He praised her to the skies, and told Papa she was a rare jewel, or some such thing.”

“That was well done of him.”

“I was surprised at his handling the situation so well. It was after he left that things got really hot. Papa charged Mama with carrying on, and she said he was unfit for decent company. Papa said he felt quite at home in her house, for she was turning it into a brothel, which is another word for bawdy house, you must know. Well, of course you do ...”

She came to a halt. Revel’s lips twitched. “So I have heard. Then what?”

“Then he implied he was not our father, if you please. Well, really, I did not blame Mama in the least for throwing her teacup at him. I am only sorry she missed. It is clear at a glance
I
am his daughter at least, for everyone mentions the resemblance. And Dulcie has his nose, though she got Mama’s eyes and hair and manner.”

She recalled that she meant to borrow that manner, and added in a sweet accent, far removed from her normal voice, “Oh, it was horrid, Revel. If only you had been here I’m sure you could have prevented Mama from telling him never to darken her door again.”

“Cut line, Tess,”
he said curtly. “I did not come here to have the butter boat dumped over me. Your main charm has always been your lack of wiles. Don’t insult my intelligence by playing off these stale tricks.”

“What intelligence?”
she snapped. Her eyes flashed dangerously, and her fawning expression firmed to vexation.

“That is more like it. Then what did your father do?”

“He left, and obviously ran straight to Esmée. How else did she earn that diamond bracelet that was dangling from her wrist this morning?”

“That diamond bracelet—
There is something amiss there. She would never take diamonds from me.”

“Your powers of persuasion must be sadly lacking if you cannot even get a lightskirt to accept diamonds,”
she snipped.

“I have told you, what the lady wants is a golden band. Esmée is not a lightskirt, precisely.”

“What would you call a woman who can be had outside of marriage?”
she demanded.

“Very obliging,”
he answered promptly. “But until she takes payment, she ain’t a lightskirt.”

“This is mere playing with words.”

“A game for which you are ill-equipped,”
he teased.

“A woman of that sort is a lightskirt, whatever you choose to call her.”

“You forget Esmée is a widow. That gives her some latitude in her dealings with gentlemen.”

“So it seems. About the bracelet, I can only conclude that Papa has offered her marriage, after the divorce comes through.”

Revel could not place any other construction on it, either, and his anger showed. “This is intolerable!”

“It seems you will have to up the ante, Revel. If you want her back, you must put your diamonds in your pocket and buy the golden band.”

“Don’t speak like an idiot. I expect more sense from you,”
he said gruffly.

From horse to idiot! Her patience was at an end. “I am finished with being an idiot. You have had your little game, Revel. You have paid Papa off for stealing your flirt by using me to make Esmée jealous. I wondered at your sudden fit of compliance, when you never stirred a finger to help anyone before in your life.”

Revel’s shoulders tensed. His expression froze to disdain, and he said loftily, “Are you quite through, Tess?”

“Not quite. As you deem me capable of handling unseemly matters, I shall give you a little advice. The lady obviously means business. I daresay Esmée would prefer a well-inlaid lord, even if he has a tarnished reputation, to an older divorced man with only a modest estate in York. If you want her, you had best get a move on, or Papa will beat you to her.”

His expression thawed to simple annoyance, then further melted to a smile. “Now that is a performance worthy of you, shrew,”
he said softly. “I thank you for your advice.”
He rose. “It won’t be necessary for you to hide in the corner again. James won’t be calling.”

“How do you know? Where is he? Has he left?”

“Not yet, but he will be leaving soon.”

“Did you send him away? I don’t understand, Revel. We were counting on him—”

His eyes narrowed. “May I know for what?”

Tess lifted her chin. “Don’t worry. It does not concern you and Esmée.”

Revel made a bow and hastened out to his carriage. “Mrs. Gardener’s flat,”
he called to his groom.

 

Chapter Seventeen

 

“Lord James did not call,”
Tess said when her mama and Dulcie returned. She feared this news would put Mama in one of her moods, but it was no such a thing.

“Did he not, dear? Then you might as well have come with us,”
Mrs. Marchant replied airily.

Tess looked to her sister for an explanation. “We met Esmée,”
Dulcie announced, smiling from ear to ear.

“Not with Papa, I take it?”

“She was with Lord Revel,”
Mrs. Marchant said, and went off
into joyous hoots of laughter.

Tess stood like a statue. This was
her
fault.
She
had advised Revel to go back to Esmée, but she had not thought he would follow her advice with such unholy promptitude. He must truly be in love with that scarlet woman.

Mrs. Marchant asked Crimshaw to bring tea, and gathered her daughters around her in the saloon for a good cose.

“It is famous!”
she crowed. “Did I not say all along, Tess, that Revel was only using you to make Esmée jealous? The young fool has offered her marriage, certainly. His mama will hit the roof.”

“What about Papa?”
Tess asked in a quavering voice, though at that moment she did not care if she ever saw him again. It was the image of Revel with Esmée that had undone her.

“The vibrato is slightly overdone, my dear, but that was a very good attempt at having feelings,”
Mrs. Marchant said, and gave Tess’s hand a maternal pat, then went off into further gales of laughter. “Now you will see your papa come trotting home.”

“You will take him back this time, Mama?”
Dulcie urged.
“Please,
do it. Don’t let him fall into a hobble with some other lady.”

“If he has learned his lesson,”
Mrs. Marchant said, with a loving gleam in one eye and a wily glint in the other. “And an expensive lesson it was. That diamond bracelet cost fifty guineas.”

“Did you see Papa at all?”
Tess asked.

“I fancy he was hiding his shame at the Pelican,”
her mama replied. “If Lord James calls, I shall not go out.”

Tess knew that Lord James was leaving. She ought to tell her mother about Revel’s call, but she felt a peculiar reluctance to mention his name. A strange lump was growing in her throat. He had gone back to Esmée. Her best efforts to ingratiate him had failed. He had called her a horse and an idiot.

“Why are you looking so glum?”
Mrs. Marchant demanded. “I should think you would be happy, child.”

“She’s blue because she has lost Lord Revel,”
Dulcie said. “I don’t believe he loves Esmée at all. I think it is just a ruse. In fact, I asked him to do it.”

“He didn’t do it for you!
I
suggested it, too,”
Tess replied hotly. No one thought to enquire when she made this request.

“Ninnies.”
Their mother laughed. “As though he would go an inch out of his way to oblige either of you hussies. It is famous that the great Lord Revel has been caught by a lightskirt, but really I cannot like to think of Esmée living so close to Lyle at home.”

“Lord Revel won’t marry her, Mama,”
Dulcie repeated.

“You are probably right. He has offered her carte blanche—an allowance, a flat in London, her own carriage and team, and all the rest of it. If she is wise, she will snap at it, for she is getting pretty long in the tooth. Is that not what you said, Tess, when you saw her at the George and Dragon?”

“Yes, I did not find her at all attractive.”
That description had been designed to please her mama. What Tess was seeing in her mind’s eyes was an extremely elegant lady with a flashing smile and clever eyes, Of course Revel was in love with her. What gentleman with the use of his wits would not be?

“I wonder if she has formally given your papa his cong
é
,

was Mrs. Marchant’s next concern. “If she is at all nice, she would have let him know before appearing in public with Lord Revel. I wager your papa has been stewing in his shame for hours.”
Her gleeful smile showed total satisfaction with this.

The tea came, and the conversation continued, covering the same ground, with slight variations. The pot was still warm, when the knocker sounded, bringing conversation to a halt.

A chilly breeze and the echo of a muted conversation came to the ladies from the open doorway, while they all strained their ears to discover if the voice was Mr. Marchant’s. Soon Crimshaw came to put them out of their suspense,

“A note for you, madam,”
he said, handing Mrs. Marchant a letter.

Her cheeks blanched, throwing into prominence two spots of pink rouge so carefully applied that it looked almost natural. She opened the note with trembling fingers. “It is from your papa,”
she announced in hushed accents. Her staring eyes devoured the page greedily.

“Will there be a reply, madam?”
Crimshaw enquired. “The footman is waiting.”

“Hush, Crimshaw,”
she said, without glancing up from the page. After a cursory reading, she looked up. A frown pleated her brow. The apology was abject enough to please her; the pleading for mercy and another chance were all that she could wish. What was lacking was any mention of a diamond bracelet. Did Lyle think he had only to hang his head and tug his forelock and all would be well? She could hold out until the diamonds were forthcoming, now that Revel had removed the threat of Mrs. Gardener.

“Madam?”
Crimshaw repeated.

“Tell the footman—
No, I had best write a note. There is no counting on servants to deliver a message properly.”

She strode to the writing desk in the corner and drew forth a sheet of writing paper. What she wished to convey was that talk was cheap. Where was the bracelet? After some thought, she wrote:

 

Dear Lyle:

Your sentiments do you credit, but until I see some tangible proof of your intentions, I must restrain my eagerness to welcome you into the bosom of your family. I shall be at home this evening.

 

She signed it, folded it up, and handed it to Crimshaw, who took it to the footman.

“Is Papa coming home?”
Dulcie asked eagerly.

“I rather think we shall see him this evening.”
Her mama smiled. Lyle had the afternoon to raise the wind and make the purchase.

Tess cleared her throat and said, “Does the note say anything about Revel, Mama? Has he made any sort of offer for Esmée?”

“There is not a word about Revel. We shall not tease your papa about Revel beating him out.”
Her eyes narrowed, and she continued on bemusedly, “But certainly that is why Esmée dumped your papa.”

“Do you mean Papa is only coming back to us because Esmée won’t have him?”
Dulcie demanded.

“It does not do to look too closely into some dealings, my dear. Your papa says he did not love Mrs. Gardener, and did not offer for her. I shall believe him when—”
Two pairs of curious young eyes regarded her expectantly.

“He did not offer you a bracelet,”
Dulcie said. “Really, Mama, I don’t think you should let that stand in the way of a reconciliation.”

“It is not only the bracelet, goose! He must prove he loves
me
more than he loves
her.”

“Have you considered that his pockets may be to let?”
Tess said. “He would have offered you one if he had the money.”

“Does he not have a diamond tiepin as big as a gooseberry? What is to prevent him from hawking it?”

“It belonged to his father, Mama!”
Tess said, shocked.

“If he loves me, he will arrange the dibs somehow.”
On this firm speech Mrs. Marchant rose and went to her room.

Tess looked doubtful. “Papa will never sell his father’s tiepin. I don’t think Mama should ask it of him.”

“I daresay he could borrow the money, if he is short,”
Dulcie said.

“Yes, his credit is good. He will arrange the loan this afternoon and come this evening with the bracelet. But I still think it wrong of Mama to tie her acceptance of him to a set of diamonds, like a lightskirt.”

“Just as long as he comes home,”
Dulcie said, and went off to continue her novel.

**

At the Pelican, Mr. Marchant was not slow to interpret his wife’s letter. His pockets were indeed to let, but selling his keepsake of his father never so much as entered his head. He had been shocked to learn from Mrs. Gardener’s butler, when he called that afternoon, that she was out with Lord Revel. As she was taking up with her old beau, she would naturally return the bracelet. He would give it to Lou, and all would be well.

The last thing he wanted was to call on Esmée and find Revel in her saloon. He wrote a note asking when it would be convenient for him to call and pick up the bracelet, as he understood from her butler that she was seeing another gentleman.

With a sly smile, Mrs. Gardener wrote back:

 

A gentleman does not demand the return of a gift. Shall we say, for services already rendered?

Best regards, E.G.

 

She had made other arrangements for the disposal of the bracelet. Let Lyle Marchant stew for a few hours, old fool! It would teach him a much needed lesson. She forgot Lyle as soon as she sent the note off. After Lord Revel’s unexpected visit, she had more interesting things to consider. If Revel were right, she would soon be shaking the dust of this town from her slippers.

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