Wife Errant (9 page)

“What on earth are you talking about? We are not going to register at the inn. I want to see how long Papa stays. He said he was just having tea.”

“We have already been gone from your home for over an hour. Evans and Dulcie will be home by now. We cannot remain away any longer.”

“Let us just draw off the side of the road and watch for his carriage. Just half an hour, Revel,”
she coaxed. “If you’re afraid for your reputation, you can get out of the carriage and pretend you have a broken wheel, or some such thing.”

“Oh, dandy! I stand in the perishing cold for half an hour while
you
wrap yourself in fur rugs.”

“I thought you were going to help me!”
she said accusingly.

“What is the point of it? We know perfectly well he won’t be along for two hours.”

“If they are only having tea, they won’t be longer than half an hour. I should think you could spare half an hour in such an important cause.”
Her lower lip trembled and tears gathered in her eyes.

“Half an hour then,”
he said, and directed his groom to pull off at the next opportunity.

“Thank you, Revel.”
She smiled. “You are the most obliging creature in the world. I don’t know why everyone says you are a model of selfishness. You had best button up your coat as you are going to be out in the wind for half an hour.”

“I shall stay in the carriage with you.”

“Oh, dear. I don’t think you should. If any of the Bath quizzes should see the carriage parked, what would they think? I would not want to tarnish your reputation,”
she added, with a quizzing smile.

Revel, snorting through his nostrils like an angry bull, drew his collar up around his ears and got out of the carriage. The wind whistled sharply about his ears. He explained the situation to his groom, and the two of them made a show of examining the left rear wheel.

Every second carriage that passed by recognized Revel’s rig and stopped to see if they could help. Many a curious eye gazed inside the carriage, where Tess was comfortably bundled up in the rug. In the end, Revel asked his groom to remove the left wheel, to lend an air of reality to the ruse.

He was just easing it off when Esmée’s carriage came clipping along. It, too, drew to a halt, and Mr. Marchant offered Tess a drive home. Tess tossed her shoulders and said, “No, thank you,”
in accents that suggested she would sooner ride home in a hearse.

As soon as the tilbury was past, she opened the door of Revel’s carriage to get out. The sudden shift of weight caused a lurch that sent the loosened wheel flying down the road. The rear of the carriage landed on the axel. A sickening snap told the story. The weight had broken the axel.

“Gracious, what is all the commotion?”
Tess demanded. “We can go now, Revel. They were only having tea after all. What is the matter with the carriage? I almost fell getting out. What have you done?”

The wheel gained momentum as it reached an incline in the road. John Groom looked at Revel, then went running after it.

“The axel is broken,”
Revel said grimly.

She gave a tsk of annoyance. “How did you manage to do that?”

“Never mind, Tess,”
he said through clenched lips.

“Will it take very long to fix? It’s getting very cold in the carriage.”

“Not so cold as it is out here,”

“You’re right,”
she said, shivering. “I shall wait inside. Do try to hurry, Revel. I am getting quite hungry.”

Something in his fulminating gaze brought her complaints to a halt. She got in the carriage, and eventually a Good Samaritan stopped and offered to send out a wheeler. He also offered Tess and Revel a drive to Bath, which they gratefully accepted. Evening shadows were drawing in when they were at last deposited at the doorstep on Bartlett Street.

“Come on in for tea, Revel,”
Tess said. “You are shivering.”

“I have a longish walk home, and there is no sign of a cab, of course, when you need one,”
he grumbled.

“Mama will lend you our carriage.”

It was the hope of a drive home that got Revel into the house. He knew Mrs. Marchant would cut up stiff at their late return, but his chivalrous instincts were exhausted. Tess was more than able to take care of herself. Where had he got the idea she was a shy, biddable sort of girl? She was a managing hussy, and ungrateful into the bargain.

The couple were met with lamentations and scoldings. “Where on earth have you been, Tess?”
her mama demanded. “Dulcie has been home for over an hour. I thought you were all going out together.”

“Revel’s carriage broke down on the Bristol Road.”

“What the devil were you doing on the Bristol Road?”
she asked Revel. “You ought not to have taken Tess out of town, Lord Revel. When you suggested a drive, I thought you meant to Milsom Street. I will not have you carrying on with Tess.”

“I’ll tell you all about it later, Mama,”
Tess said, with a significant nod that hinted at great doings. “I have promised Revel a cup of tea, for he has been standing out in the cold for ages.”

A shudder seized Revel’s frame and he sneezed violently.

Mrs. Marchant took this for corroboration of Tess’s strange story and schooled her anger to cool civility, but she made it perfectly clear to Lord Revel that he was not welcome at Bartlett Street unless his intentions were honest. Revel scowled at Tess in a way that did not in the least denote affection. The mother was on pins to learn what had happened, and was not tardy to call the carriage as soon as tea had been consumed.

The minute Revel was out the door, she turned to Tess. “What is it, my dear? You have seen Papa!”

“Yes!”

“I knew it. Where was he? Was he with her?”

Tess told the whole tale, assuring her mama that Esmée Gardener was not nearly so pretty as herself. “Her hair quite dull, and her suit not made in France. They were only having tea, so you must not worry yourself unduly. Papa asked for you and Dulcie.”

“I hope you told him I am seeing Lord James.”

“I forgot,”
Tess admitted.

“And there is not a hope of his seeing me tonight, for he never darkens the door of a play. You and Revel keep an eye out for him, wherever you are going. Where are you going tonight, my dear? You must take Dulcie. I quite insist you not leave the poor child sitting home alone again.”

“Revel did not mention going out this evening, Mama.”

“After all but compromising you this afternoon? Does he take you for a nobody? How dare he use you in this manner? I shall have your papa speak
—
Oh, it is
impossible
trying to rear daughters without a man to protect them.”

“I was in no way compromised, Mama. It was an accident. Revel was not even in the carriage.”

“I have it!”
Mrs. Marchant exclaimed. “The concert! I have four tickets, for I thought when I bought the subscription that we would all be going as a family.”

“I’ll tell Dulcie.”

“Yes, tell her. It is a shame to leave her sitting home again, but—
-
”

“Oh, I thought Dulcie and I would go with you, Mama.”

“No, no. You shall come with us. I shall send a note to Revel inviting him. It will remove the taint of impropriety for my being with James. The old quizzes will think Revel brought his cousin along and we are playing propriety for you youngsters. And Revel had better not make any excuses!”

“But what of the play you wanted to see?”

“I did not in the least want to see it. It was only Shakespeare. Lord James’s idea of a lively evening,”
she added satirically.

Mrs. Marchant dashed off her note to Revel. A reply was brought back by the footman bearing an unexceptionable excuse. Lord Revel regretted very much that he was in bed with the sniffles.

“Then I shall remain home with Dulcie,”
Tess said.

“Nothing of the sort. You shall both come with us. Folks must know by now that you are seeing Revel. I shall mention to a few friends that Lord James is taking Revel’s place because he is ill.”

“That won’t make Papa jealous.”

“Ninnyhammer.
He
will know the difference. And while we are talking about double-dealing, miss, why did you run off alone with Revel this afternoon? You have not explained
that
to
my satisfaction.”

Tess kept her tongue between her teeth and looked as guilty as she could, for she wanted her mother to worry about her. “We thought it would be more amusing to take the two carriages,”
she said.

“I swear I have hatched a pair of geese, with no more propriety than a couple of hurly-burly girls. Dulcie only seventeen, and jaunting about town alone with a gentleman. I’m sure I don’t know what everyone will think.”

“I expect they will think your daughters take after you, Mama,”
Tess said daringly.

To her dismay, her mama thought it a great joke and left in a rare good humor.

Tess saw her own notion of impropriety was sadly tame. What was it going to take to make Mama realize the danger of loose behavior?

The more Mr. Marchant thought about it, the more he realized he must return to his wife. He paid little heed to that silly letter from Lou’s solicitor. She was only trying to frighten him. He had taken her running about here and there with Lord James Drake for an attempt to make him jealous—an attempt that had some success—but now he knew the whole. If Lord James was Revel’s cousin, then obviously it all had to do with landing Revel for Tess.

He regretted losing Esmée. She was quite charming, in her way, but already her charms were beginning to pall. He was laying out a vast deal of money on his hotel and his outings with Esmée, but it was really the possibility of Tess attaching Revel that made up his mind.

What a coup for the family! His daughter reigning as Countess Revel, at Revel Hall. Revel, like his father before him, was a bit of a high flyer himself, but his relatives would take it amiss that his bride’s papa was not a saint. He could play the paragon for a few months, until the thing was accomplished.

Lyle Marchant did not consider himself a clever man, but if there was one thing he knew, it was women. And of all the women he had known, he knew his wife best. He knew she was still mad for him; he also knew she liked a little spectacle in her courting. He would not slip up to her door unseen some dark night, but execute the reconciliation in the full glare of the public eye.

He remembered that Lou had bought that subscription for four to the concert series, although she knew perfectly well that he loathed concerts. She did it to spite him. She would take the gels to the concert tonight. His empty seat would be there. He would walk down the aisle, bow, and make a pleading face.

All eyes would be on them. Marchant had no aversion to a little playacting himself. Lou would give a show of indignation, then capitulate with one of her stage smiles. During the performance he would hold her hand and whisper sweet words into her ear. He would escort her and the gels to the tearoom and order the most lavish tea to be had. Pity the Lower Rooms did not serve champagne.

He could see, in his mind’s eye, Lou’s lips tremble in pleasure—while her eyes darted about the room to watch the crowd watching them. They would all go home together, and the thing would be done. He would mind his p’s and q’s until Tess was married. A spring wedding, very likely. He could be faithful that long. He really ought not to have taken up with anyone at Bath. Ladies were sentimental about such things.

He made a careful toilette and took a hansom cab to the Lower Rooms. He foresaw no difficulty in taking his seat. He knew it was near the front. Lou always bought the best seats in the house. He would just point out the empty seat to the page and say he was meeting his wife. He began scanning the front seats and soon spotted Dulcie. When he observed that there was no vacant seat nearby, he thought that Lou must have invited Revel to fill up the extra seat.

Marchant hired one of the last empty seats, near the back of the house, planning to meet his family at the intermission. Only the back of Lord James’s head was visible, and that only by glimpses when the shifting of the audience allowed. It resembled Lord Revel’s head in general outline and coloring.

Not looking for any trickery, Mr. Marchant paid it very little heed. He was soon distracted by a full-bosomed redhead a few rows in front of him, and passed the first half of the concert without too much boredom. He also had time to tally his finances and figure out that he could afford a little gift for Lou; not the diamond bracelet she had been hinting for, but a shawl, perhaps. Sapphire blue, to match your eyes, he would say as he said on every occasion when blue cloth or feathers were presented in lieu of gemstones.

At intermission he stood up, waiting at his seat to join himself to Lou and the girls when they came down the aisle. He arranged a careful smile, suitably humble and hopeful and adoring. His attention was all on Lou. She was still a fine-looking woman when all was said and done. She outshone every other dame her age. He spared a glance to see how Tess and Revel were acting and his smile froze on his face. That wasn’t Revel! It was Lord James! Lou was appearing in public with the scoundrel, and without Lord Revel to put a good complexion on it. Good God!

His next instinct was to hide, but before he managed to do it, he caught Tess’s eye. She glared at him boldly, then began looking to see who he was with. He strode out into the aisle to show her he was alone.

Lou had still not spotted him. He quickly left the concert room and went on out of the building. His spirits were in turmoil. It struck him like a kick in the stomach to see Lou with another man. And a demmed handsome one, when all was said and done. It was well known Lord James hadn’t a feather to fly with, but he had a sort of inferior title and good connections.

Pride and anger lured him toward Esmée, to show Lou how little he cared. A second consideration told him this would only make matters worse. No, what he had to do was go humbly, hat in hand, and apologize. He would go that very night, after the concert, and make it up with her.

Tess found a moment at the intermission to tell her mother that Papa was there, alone. “He looked shocked when he saw you with Lord James, Mama.”