A Wicked Pursuit (17 page)

“That is no longer necessary, Mary,” Gus said, unable to forget Harry’s face when he’d showed her the magazine earlier with the dreadful item in it. “His lordship knows.”

“Oh, the poor, poor gentleman!” exclaimed Mary with genuine sympathy. “But are these lies and slanders true, then, miss? What are we to say now to defend Miss Wetherby?”

“I shall tell you the same as I will tell the rest of the staff,” Gus said evenly. “That my sister and his lordship have decided they no longer suit each other. They have agreed to part, and there will be no match between them.”

Mary gasped. “But for her to leave his lordship when he’s suffered so—forgive me, miss, but it’s shameful, shameful, and there’s no other word for it.”

“There is no need for further words on the topic, Mary,” Gus said, resolutely turning on the bench to face her looking glass again. “Recall that Miss Wetherby is my sister, and the elder lady of this house. Now, please, continue to do what you can with my hair.”

“Oh, I’ll do that, miss,” Mary said, drawing the brush through Gus’s hair with renewed purpose. “We must make you look as fine as possible, the better to cheer his poor lordship.”

“Mary, I am dining with his lordship because he is a guest in my father’s house,” Gus said firmly, wanting to put an end to such speculation before it began. “Now that he no longer requires special foods, it only seems hospitable that I join him for supper. If he were not hindered by his leg, we would be at the table together in the dining room.”

“Yes, miss,” Mary said. “You always do make his lordship your father proud that way. There now, I’ve dressed your hair up higher in front, the way the ladies of quality are wearing it in London now, with curls pinned in back and one long one over your shoulder like a proper lovelock.”

“A lovelock?” Gus repeated, dubious, as she studied the effect of the single fat curl trailing over her shoulder. She was accustomed to seeing her hair falling perfectly straight, or lightly crimped from plaiting. But she’d never seen it curl like this, and to her eyes it looked more like a pinned-on piece of borrowed hair than her own.

“Yes, miss,” Mary said confidently. “Before Miss Wetherby left, her maid, Sarah, told me all about what the ladies of fashion were wearing, and showed me how they dressed their hair for day and for night. I’ve put a touch of sugar-water to that lovelock before I used the curling tongs, miss, so it will hold.”

Tentatively Gus touched the curl, feeling how the sugar-water combined with the heat of the curling tongs had stiffened it into submission. Mary was right: It wasn’t coming down.

“I’m not sure of this, Mary,” she said to her reflection. “Though I suppose it won’t matter once I’ve pinned on my cap.”

“No, miss, no!” Mary exclaimed, scandalized. “No young ladies wear caps in the evening! Here, this is what I’m going to pin in instead, little baubles that your sister left behind.”

In her palm were several little five-pointed stars, sparkling with cut brilliants, and backed with a curving tail.

“Hair springs,” Mary said proudly. “Sarah says all the ladies wear them. Here, miss, I’ll show you.”

Deftly she tucked the stars in a cluster above Gus’s right temple, turning each curving back until it held fast into her hair. Gus had to admit it was a pretty effect, like a tiny winking constellation in her hair.

“You do not think it is too bold?” she asked uncertainly, turning her head back and forth to make the stars twinkle. “It’s only supper.”

“It’s supper with a peer, miss,” Mary said confidently. “His lordship will take notice, you can be sure of that.”

It wasn’t that Gus feared Harry wouldn’t take notice; she’d no doubt he would, Harry being Harry. What she dreaded was trying to dress too much like Julia, and having him think she believed she was a beauty, too.

Gus had no illusions about her appearance. She’d already suffered through her share of county balls and routs where she’d been cast so far back in Julia’s glorious shadow as to be made invisible. She did not shine, especially not in company, and she knew that gentlemen always preferred a glowing beauty to her more humble attributes.

She had no illusions where Harry was concerned, either. He teased her because he was bored, and it amused him. He paid her compliments because he was a gallant at heart, and he appreciated and thanked her for all she’d done for him because he was well bred. He might like her as a friend, an acquaintance, a little sister, but it would never go beyond that. The last thing she wished was to make him think she was harboring false hopes for replacing Julia in his affections, and she feared that little stars in her hair might convey exactly that.

But she didn’t want him to think she’d taken his invitation lightly, either. Even she knew that fashions that seemed excessive in Norwich would scarcely be noticed in London. Not only did the stars remain in Gus’s hair, but she let Mary persuade her into wearing one of her silk gowns, a shimmering, deep red taffeta, and a strand of matching coral beads around her throat. She also left off her habitual kerchief around her shoulders, leaving the neckline of her gown uncovered. Having the top swell of her breasts visible above her whalebone-stiffened stays was, she knew, the proper style for evening, and quite modest by fashionable standards.

But for Gus, it felt daring, even brazen, and as she stood outside Harry’s door, she had to fight the urge to run skittering back to her own room to change. Then the footman opened the door for her, and she entered, and there was no turning back.

“Good evening, Gus,” Harry said warmly. “Pray forgive me for not rising to welcome you properly.”

She hadn’t expected this. The room that she’d thought she’d known so well had been transformed. Beside the bed was a beautifully set small table for two, with silver and crystal and linens borrowed from the dining room, and flowers in a porcelain bowl. The candles on the table and beside the bed had just been lit, their glow soft and inviting in the early-evening dusk.

“Look at this,” she marveled. “How did you arrange all this, Harry, and in so short a time?”

“The credit goes largely to Tewkes,” he admitted. “I had certain ideas, and he was resourceful in his arrangements, and in keeping them a surprise for you. Not an easy task when it’s your household, either. Do you approve?”

“I do,” she said, suddenly shy around him. She came to take her seat at the little table, with Tewkes stepping forward to ease in her chair for her. As soon as she sat, Harry’s two dogs came to snuffle at her skirts, their tails whipping in welcome. “No one has ever done anything like this for me.”

“Then it’s past time someone did,” Harry said. “Down, you two rascals. Leave the lady alone.”

“I don’t mind,” she said quickly. She bent down to rub each one behind the ears in that velvety spot all dogs adored. “They’re lovely dogs, Harry.”

“They’re damned wicked rogues,” he said pleasantly, motioning for Tewkes to fill their glasses with wine. “I see they like you, however.”

“They should,” she said, “since I’ve broken one of Papa’s cardinal rules by letting them stay here with you.”

“Then that explains it,” he said. “Being damned wicked rogues, they instinctively know to whom they should beg for mercy. But at least they’re clean. I had Hollick wash them in your honor.”

“I
am
honored,” she said, looking up at him from the dogs. Harry, too, had made an extra effort for their supper. His nightshirt was fresh and pressed, the linen crisp and unmussed and the cuffs buttoned at his wrists, and he’d fastened the collar with a heart-shaped shirt buckle, gold set with topazes and diamonds, the same heavy gold of his onyx ring.

His jaw was so clean-shaven that the skin practically gleamed, and for the first time that she remembered, his hair was sleeked back into a neat queue and tied with a black silk ribbon. His broken leg had stopped grieving him, and without the constant tension of that pain, the rest of his body looked at ease again. He sat with his other leg bent at the knee, a much more relaxed and rakish posture. He finally resembled an earl, with all traces of his piratical self gone—all, that is, except when he smiled at her.

He raised his glass, and in response she raised hers, too.

“To friendship,” he said, so short and simple a toast that she could happily agree.

“To friendship,” she repeated, and drank. She was careful to take only a few sips, while he, being a gentleman, drank deeply. She recognized the wine’s label as being from her father’s cellar, but she’d never tasted it herself, more usually drinking a lady’s lighter wine or even abstaining entirely to be sure the meal ran smoothly. The wine was quite pleasing, and with no responsibilities, she permitted herself another few swallows. As soon as she set her glass back down on the cloth, Tewkes instantly stepped forward to fill it again with a promptness that she noted, and commended.

“Our supper should be here shortly,” Harry said, “that is, if your cook is prompt.”

“Mrs. Buchanan is never late sending her dishes to the table,” Gus said, her taffeta skirts rustling around her as she settled into the armchair. “How she must be enjoying preparing a meal without me telling her what to do!”

“What she enjoyed was preparing something special as a surprise for you,” he said, motioning for the footman to refill his wineglass. “You’re very well liked by your staff. Most ladies can’t say that of their household. But then, most ladies aren’t as charming as you are.”

She blushed and looked down at the wine in her glass. “You shouldn’t say things like that, Harry.”

“Why not?” he said easily. “I believe in telling the truth, Gus, and that is the truth. Here’s more: You took my breath away when you entered just now. You’re beyond all my imaginings.”

She tried to smile as she sipped her wine, tried to turn his words around into a jest. “You mean you couldn’t imagine me without an apron or a cap.”

“No,” he said, shaking his head a bit in disbelief, though he smiled still. “I meant that as well as I thought I knew your face and person, I was startled by how lovely you are when you’re dressed as a lady. You
are
lovely, Gus.”

She looked down again, squaring her thumbs around the base of the glass, unable to meet his gaze when he was saying such things.

“Please don’t speak to me like that, Harry,” she said softly. “You needn’t. I don’t expect it. I’m not Julia.”

“It’s a good thing you’re not your sister,” he said, “else neither of us would be here.”

“I am serious, Harry,” she said. “If you do not stop, I’ll have to leave.”

“You know I don’t want that.” He sighed with resignation and emptied his glass. “Very well. You have my word that no more truths of an uncomfortable nature will be spoken.”

“Thank you,” she said, forcing herself to look at him again. He wasn’t exactly staring at her, but his blue eyes were watching her intensely, as if concentrating on remembering every detail of—of what? Her gown, the stars in her hair, the freckles on the bridge of her nose?

Unsettled, she swiftly looked away, her gaze landing on the flowers in the Chinese porcelain.

“Those roses are from my mother’s garden,” she said, determined to steer the conversation into safer waters. “The white ones were her favorites.”

“I was told they were your favorites as well,” he said. “I didn’t know it was your mother’s garden.”

“She made things grow,” Gus said, reaching to curl her palm around the nearest rose. It touched her that he’d bothered to ask about her favorite flowers, especially since the roses reminded her so deeply of her mother. “Roses, sweet herbs, children. Everything thrived in her care.”

“She was your father’s second wife?” he asked.

She nodded, smiling sadly as she thought of her mother. “She was. His first wife, poor lady, died bearing Julia, and Papa married my mother soon afterward. He always says it was the best decision he ever made, and I suppose it was. She loved Andrew and Julia just as much as she loved me, and she ran his household like clockwork for him. But then Julia’s likely told you all that.”

“She didn’t,” he said. “She told me next to nothing of your family. I didn’t even know of your existence until your brother told me, the night I first arrived here.”

“Truly?” she asked, surprised and a little hurt. As taxing as Julia could be, Gus had always thought of her as a sister in every way, but there were times when Julia didn’t return the affection.

He smiled wryly. “You know how Julia can be. She’s likely forgotten me entirely by now, too.”

“If she has, Harry, then it’s her loss,” Gus said firmly, and took an emphatic drink of her never-diminishing wine.

“I tend to agree with you,” he said, and sighed. “So I would guess you are much like your mother.”

“I try to be,” she said, “though that is very nice of you to say.”

“More truth, that is all.”

“It’s a greater compliment than you’ll ever understand,” she said wistfully. “But tell me of your own family. Have you sisters and brothers, too?”

“Two brothers, no sisters,” he said. “But I’ve also cousins who are more like brothers, so it feels like a larger family than it is. I also lost my mother too soon. She nursed three sons through the usual illnesses and accidents, then died herself from a simple quinsy after riding in an open carriage by night with my father. The quinsy turned putrid, and in three days she was gone.”

“I’m sorry, Harry,” Gus said, reaching out to rest her hand over his in sympathy. “Did you lose her recently?”

“Oh, no, over ten years ago,” he said, turning his hand to claim hers. “My father took a second wife, a charming lady we all hold in the highest esteem. He’s much happier now with her. But not a day goes by that I do not remember, and miss, my own mother as well.”

“That is the same with me,” she said softly, gazing down at their joined hands. She was always surprised by how small her fingers looked compared with his, and when he held her hand like this, she felt as if he were protecting her, rather than she comforting him.

Not, of course, that she’d any right to feel that way, or even to be holding his hand. She knew she should pull away, and yet once again she didn’t. Perhaps it was the wine that was making her behave like this.