Devil's Match (13 page)

“Y
ou'll be a credit to me, my love,” Leah Barsett murmured approvingly as Caroline turned before the mirror. “I had not thought it possible that Mrs. Cranston could have done so well, but full half the
ton
will want the name of your dressmaker, I promise you. I cannot wait until Marcus sees this gown—he has such impeccable taste, you know.”

“Marcus?”

“Rotherfield.” The beautiful Lady Lyndon leaned closer to confide, “He is not at all what you have heard of him. Even Tony has come to like him.”

“Oh.”

“Yes, and he is quite alone in this world—a tragedy of sorts, if you ask me.”

“Well,” Caroline admitted, “he seems to delight in his reputation. Indeed, he fairly flaunts it in ail things. I mean, look at his clothes, his arrogant bearing, his very manners—'twould seem he tries to stand apart.”

“You mistake the matter then. Twice in my recollection, the
ton
has chosen to utterly censure one of its members without true cause. In the first instant, it was Marcus Halvert; in the second, it was Patrick Danvers. In Marcus' case, he flaunted that censure, showing up where he knew he was not wanted, daring anyone to give him the cut direct, and acting for all the world as though he ruled it. He knows he is feared, he knows he is disliked, but he will not give anyone the satisfaction of seeing him retreat. He exacts a price for that censure. Lord Westover, on the other hand, appears to turn his back on those who would shun him.”

“Patrick Danvers is no coward!” The words escaped before Caroline realized how they must sound. “Your pardon, Lady Lyndon, but I did not mean—”

“Leah—you must call me Leah, for we shall be quite like sisters,” Leah Barsett cut in. “And I am sure no one calls Westover a coward, my dear. You mistook my meaning. I am saying that with him 'tis a mutual dislike.” She moved closer to examine the ruching along the hem of the sapphire-blue silk gown Caroline modeled. “Charming, I think. You were quite right to choose this color.”

Caroline smoothed the shimmering fabric across her shoulders and turned sideways for a better glimpse of the fit in a mirror. Leah Barsett had done her job well, for everything was perfect from the soft kid slippers to the ostrich feathers that adorned Caro's cropped and curled hair. The effect, while not exactly a total transformation, certainly was arresting.

“Here”—Leah slipped a single strand of pearls around Caroline's neck—“they ought to be sapphires, but I daresay that as a maiden lady, 'twill not be remarked if you have only pearls. Your husband will provide other jewels later.”

“Are you two about ready?” Anthony Barsett, Viscount Lyndon, called through the closed door.

“Just a moment,” Leah answered. She reached to pinch Caro's cheeks and to pat an errant ostrich feather into place. “There—'tis perfect, love.”

Tony Barsett beamed when they came out. “Well, I shall be the most remarked fellow at the Connistons' tonight, I think, if I can but persuade both of you to hang on my arms. I can hear that damned poet Maria keeps dangling on her skirts—ten to one, he'll bellow out that I've balanced the fair goddess with a dark one.”

“Fiddle,” Caro announced succinctly.

“Caroline does not succumb to extravagant compliments, Tony.” Leah smiled.

“You relieve my mind.” He grinned back.

“What she means, my lord, is that I am not a totally green girl, I think.” Caroline looked from the viscount to his lady and wondered how Lady Milbourne could have ever worried. It was obvious that the Barsetts were a devoted pair.

“Tony, do you mind very much that I have asked Marcus to accompany us?” Leah asked suddenly.

“Oh-ho! So that's the lay of the land, is it? No, of course not, my dear, but don't you think that a little transparent?” He met his wife's warning look and retreated. “I mean, does he know what you are about?”

“Tony!”

“Rotherfield has been a bachelor for nearly thirty years, Leah,” he reminded her. “It won't be as easy to lead him into parson's mousetrap as you think. Besides, I think he's still more than half in love with you.”

“Tony!”

Caroline could feel the color flood her face and wondered just how much Tony Barsett knew of Lady Milbourne's plans. To hide her embarrassment, she raised her ostrich-plume fan and began to exercise it vigorously to cool her face. After hearing Lady Lyndon's remarks on the subject, she could not decide whether it was she or the earl that was the true object of their matrimonial machinations.

“Ah, well, here's where you put it to the touch, Leah,” Tony leaned over and whispered to his lady. “I believe Crowley is admitting Rotherfield now.”

They were at the top of the stairs when the door opened in the foyer. Caroline looked down at the same moment the earl looked up, and she thought she saw a hint of amusement in eyes so dark they appeared black. As usual, his dress was affected, with everything black but the stark white of his plain shirt and his cravat. From raven hair to gleaming highlows, he was austere in the extreme. Only the winking of diamond studs and stickpin broke the utter plainness of his clothing. Not that his dress did not speak of elegance and expense, of course, for every article was the pride of his select tailor.

Tony Barsett gave each lady an elbow and swept them down the wide staircase in the grand manner. Caroline felt rather like she was going to a court presentation instead of a mere ball. Rotherfield kissed Leah's extended fingers before turning to bow over Caro's hand.

“You have the advantage of me, my dear—I cannot place the acquaintance,” he murmured politely as his lips brushed over her demiglove.

“Caroline, may I present the Earl of Rotherfield,” Leah announced helpfully. “And, Marcus, this is Caroline Ashley.”

His fingers seemed to tense on hers for a moment, but his face never betrayed anything. The black eyes met hers. “Miss Ashley.”

“We have been presented once, I think, but I daresay the affair was such a shocking squeeze that you could not possibly remember it.”

“Caroline is staying with Grandmama and Grandpapa, Marcus. I believe her mother was some sort of goddaughter to my grandmother.”

“Ah, the ailing godmother then,” he mused almost to himself. To Caro he smiled apologetically. “Nonetheless, I should be called to book for forgetting such a lovely lady.”

The carriage ride was taken up with the merest commonplaces, and Caroline began to relax. There was nothing in Rotherfield's manner that gave evidence that he knew of the Milbournes' plans. Indeed, it seemed that he was patently but politely disinterested until they were set down at the Connistons' doorstep. Lord Lyndon escorted his wife, leaving the earl to take Caro inside. Tucking her arm in the crook of his elbow, he leaned slightly to whisper, “You intrigue me, Miss Ashley. Really, but I should be interested to hear how you came to Milbourne House, my dear.”

He led her through the receiving line with a determination that made her marvel. Ahead of them, Lord and Lady Lyndon could be heard to remark that the extra card they'd requested was for Lord Rotherfield and Miss Ashley. There was a certain coolness, betrayed by a thinning of Lady Conniston's smile, but she merely nodded perfunctorily and extended two fingers toward the earl. After all, if the Lyndons could take him up, she supposed she would have to endure. Turning to Caroline, she furrowed her brow as though to place her. “Ashley? I do not believe I have the pleasure of your acquaintance… Oh, dear, how stupid of me,” she recollected suddenly. “You were with the Canfields, were you not?”

“Yes, I—”

“Miss Ashley is Grandmama's goddaughter,” Lady Lyndon interjected smoothly.

“Oh, then… that is to say… how very nice for you, my dear. I had no notion, of course, but if Anne Milbourne is your godmother, I daresay you must be a most unexceptional girl.”

“She is.” Leah nodded. “I mean to procure a voucher to Almack's for her as soon as I see Sally Jersey.”

As they passed on into the ballroom, Caroline could hear Lady Conniston whispering to someone, “Lady Milbourne's goddaughter, you know.”

“Buck up, Miss Ashley,” Rotherfield encouraged, “for tonight you will be the object of curiosity. 'Twill pass, I can promise you from experience.”

Across the floor, Lady Canfield looked up and gasped in shock at the sight of Caroline Ashley on

Rotherfield's arm. “It cannot be! Look at that gown! Juliana, I thought you said she was caring for her godmother!”

Juliana followed her mother's line of vision, and started. “Caro! And Rotherfield!” Her color heightened at his perceived duplicity, and she moved purposefully toward the two of them.

“Juliana!” her mother hissed.

“Nonsense, Mama,” she answered in a brittle voice. “Caro is my dearest friend, after all.”

But once she reached them, Juliana addressed the earl first, accusing him. “I thought you were my friend, sir!” Then, turning indignantly to Caroline, she added, “And I have been half out of my mind with worry over you!”

“Miss Canfield, I assure you that I have just this evening made Miss Ashley's acquaintance,” Rotherfield protested. “Before that, I had no notion that she was staying with Lord and Lady Milbourne or that Leah means to bring her out.”

“Bring her out?” Juliana stared.

“Ju, did you not get my letter?” Caroline asked. “I wrote as soon as I arrived at the Milbournes'.”

“I have heard nothing since—” She stopped and looked around before lowering her voice to finish, “—since you left with Mr. Bascombe.”

“Oh, dear—how everything must look to you then.”

“Er … I do not believe I would discuss the matter here, were I you,” Rotherfield warned. “A more private place, perhaps, would be better. Tell me, Miss Ashley, do you drive out?”

“I have not had the opportunity, my lord.”

“Well, then perhaps I may persuade Lady Lyndon to take the both of you up for a turn around the park,” he offered. “I should like to hear the tale myself.”

“But I wrote to Juliana of it,” Caro protested.

“Obviously she did not receive the letter.” He cast a meaningful look to where Lady Canfield stood glaring at them.

“Oh.” Juliana nodded. “Yes, Mama would not have given it to me, I daresay. But then, she would have had to know, and I do not believe she had the slightest notion, Caro.” Turning to Rotherfield, she shook her head. “I should like to go to the park, but Mama would never countenance it, my lord, if she had the least inkling either you or Caro would be there. She dislikes Caro, too, you know.”

“You can trust Lady Lyndon to be discreet.”

Albert Bascombe had the misfortune to come to Lady Canfield's notice at that moment. His first impulse was to run, but by the time he'd looked around for a place to hide, she was upon him. And, while usually somewhat oblivious of his surroundings, Bertie could tell on the instant that she was less than pleased. Without preamble, she launched into a complete censure of the Earl of Rotherfield's manners, morals, and character that left Bertie bewildered. It was not until she finished that he understood that she meant for him to retrieve his betrothed from the notorious earl's company.

“Me?” He cast a furtive look to where Rotherfield stood, and shook his head. “Uh-unhh. Wouldn't offend him for anything.” Just then, Juliana moved a step, and Bertie's attention was arrested by the girl behind her. “Miss Ashley!”

“Yes,” sniffed Lady Lenore, “ 'tis Miss Ashley, as bold as brass, and looking for the world as though she belongs here. Sick godmother indeed!”

“Uh… your pardon, Lady Canfield,” Bertie managed while he still stared after Caroline. “Got to find Patrick.”

“Patrick? Here? He would not dare!”

“Don't see why not,” Bertie insisted loyally. “If Rotherfield can do it, so can Patrick.”

“But the scandal—”

“Old story. Ten to one, half the people in this room don't remember precisely what he did even.” With that, Bascombe left Lady Canfield standing alone.

He found Patrick lounging against a pillar, his hands jammed into his coat pockets, his face incredibly bored. The hazel eyes flicked over Bertie, and a wry smile tilted the corners of his mouth.

“Behold the pariah,” he said as he indicated the empty area around him.

“Pat, she's here!”

“Ju? Saw her come in with my aunt earlier.”

“Miss Ashley—at least I think 'tis Miss Ashley.”

Patrick's whole being came alive. “Where?”

“Over there—with Rotherfield and Miss Canfield.”

Patrick was unprepared for the rush of emotion he felt when he saw her. A vast feeling of relief and more flooded over him as he stared hard at the transformed Caroline Ashley. He willed her to look his way and was rewarded when she turned her head.

“Pretty thing, ain't she?” Bertie observed.

“Beautiful.”

Although some fifty paces separated him from Caro, their eyes met. She paled for an instant and then gave him a tentative little smile. Still stunned, Patrick managed to make his way across the room. In his single-mindedness, he bumped against his aunt.

“You!” Lady Canfield spat at him. “Never say you have a card.”

“Bascombe procured one for me.”

“Then Lady Conniston cannot be very nice in her tastes,” Lady Lenore retorted. “You and Rotherfield! One can only marvel at her thinking!” With that observation, she pushed her way through to Juliana. Giving both Rotherfield and Caroline the cut direct, she addressed her daughter.

“For shame, my dear, but you would ignore your betrothed. I am sure that Mr. Bascombe means to lead you out when the music begins.”

“Betrothed?” The earl gave a start, his black eyes suddenly intent. “Am I to wish you happy then, Miss Canfield?”