Lady Pamela (24 page)

“Good for Lady Harkins. ’Twill be the one sensible idea she has until Michaelmas.” Amanda frowned suddenly and added, “Do we know for certain that Lady Millicent was being molested? Perhaps she was a willing participant.”

“Amanda.”

“No, I suppose not. She didn’t look very happy, did she, that day in the park?”

“Like a lamb to the slaughter.”

“And you say the duke descended upon Lord Castlereaugh and gave him a good thrashing?” Lady Detweiler grinned. “How I would have loved to have been there....”

“Only to be discovered comforting Lady Millicent moments later.”

“Lord Chambers cuts his scheming rather fine. A short delay, and he and Beatrice would have found nothing.”

“Lady Millicent’s dress was torn,” replied Pam. “I suspect that Lord Castlereaugh had planned a rather lengthier interlude.”

“How revolting.”

“Castlereaugh was terrified,” said Pam, with some satisfaction. “I dare say he won’t be frequenting society for some time, not if there’s any chance of meeting the duke.” That she and Lady Detweiler would also cut him went without saying, and as all their friends and relations would follow suit, Enoch Castlereaugh would soon find that there was little welcome to be found in all of London.

“He will accost young women wherever he goes,” said Lady Detweiler, an assessment that was, sadly, true.

“Perhaps the next father will not be as worthless as Lord Chambers.”

“Yes. I suppose we can always hope he’ll be shot.” Amanda frowned at a sudden thought. “By the way, what was Lord Torrance doing in the Lincolnshires’ gardens?” she asked Pam. Then–

“Ahhh. I see.”

The question had never occurred to Lady Pamela, but she immediately realized its answer. The duke was in the gardens looking for her. Pam sighed, made more miserable by this knowledge than almost anything else.

Stupid argument. Stupid, stupid pride.

* * * *

And now ’twas already the day following, and Lady Pamela had no memory of how she had spent the previous evening, or if she had slept that night. Maximilian was commenting on the weather, having said nothing, for once, about his boots, his cape, or the newest style in neckcloths.

“Umm,” replied Lady Pamela. She had not noticed, herself, whether it was sunny or cloudy, or whether it looked to be coming on rain. She tried to fix a smile on her face, and to wave cheerily at their acquaintances as the carriages passed by, but ’twas hard work, and she was becoming weary. Even the Earl of Carnath’s hearty hello and doff of the hat was not enough to raise her spirits.

At least she would not suffer the humiliation of being a scorned woman. No-one besides Lady Detweiler and her own brother, the Marquess of Luton–and Maximilian, of course–knew of her association with the Duke of Grentham. She could carry on in society as before. As if nothing whatsoever had happened to the beautiful and captivating Lady Pamela Sinclair.

A large high-perch phaeton entered the Row several horse-lengths in front of their own carriage and advanced in their direction. Lady Pamela first noticed the woman–a young woman with shining long, brown hair–before she saw the tall blond-haired man sitting at her side.

Of course. Recognition came a half-moment later, and she turned away just in time to see Amanda lean toward Maximilian, her hand on his sleeve. Max tugged hard on the reins.

“Whoa!”

“Oh, bother it all,” said Lady Pamela. “I won’t be able to avoid them forever, you know.”

“Mmm,” said Maximilian, who was craning his neck, looking for an opening to make the turn.

But the Row was crowded at that time of the afternoon, even on a cool autumn’s day, and the possibilities for escape were limited. The phaeton approached inexorably closer, and Lady Pamela clasped and unclasped her hands, looking left and right and anywhere to avoid the greeting.

Too late. Their own carriage was virtually at a standstill when the duke and Lady Millicent came alongside, and she heard Lord Torrance mutter a quick instruction to his animals.

“Lady Detweiler,” said the duke, with a nod. “Lord Detweiler.”

Lady Pamela’s eyes met his.

“Lady Pamela,” said the Duke of Grentham.

* * * *

The carriages parted, leaving Lady Millicent half-panicked and deep in thought. She had woken this morning determined to make a pleasant beginning with the duke, her husband-to-be. Milly didn’t think this should be difficult. Lord Torrance was the handsomest man she had ever seen, more handsome, even, than Clarence Peabody. And he was a duke, of course, and what girl had not dreamed of being a duchess?

But now everything had changed.

If only she had been able to talk to Annabelle. But her father had kept her cooped inside the house ever since the ball, and this evening, at Lady Tate’s
musicale,
would be the first chance for the two girls to talk. Millicent was not a devotee of
musicales
, which too often featured screeching sopranos or a mediocre tenor, but tonight she was glad of the opportunity. She and Annabelle would find some quiet corner for conversation. Annabelle would know what to do.

She had dressed with particular care that afternoon, and smiled at Lord Torrance at every opportunity, and asked him a few questions about himself from time to time. ’Twas Milly’s experience that males enjoyed that subject as no other.

Still, she had not chattered, for she knew that gentlemen disliked chatter, and she had tried to pay earnest attention to the duke’s mood, so that she might keep quiet when he seemed minded to be silent, and make a cheerful comment about the weather, perhaps, if silence turned awkward.

Lady Millicent did not forget, at any moment, that their marriage was being forced upon the Duke of Grentham. But ’twas the gentlemen themselves who had decided upon the rules, thought Milly, the fine and precious rules that had led to this
denouement
. And besides, what could she do about it? She had attempted to resist Lord Castlereaugh, and it had done her no good whatsoever, for Millicent was aware that, had the duke not chanced upon them in the Lincolnshires’ garden, her fate would now be settled quite differently.

She was grateful to Lord Torrance, and he was so kind and gentle with her, albeit–perhaps–a trifle reserved. She wanted to make him happy, and was determined to devote her life to that task, to the man who had saved her from...that other person.

Lady Millicent did not want to think about Castlereaugh, or the scene in the garden, ever again. The Duke of Grentham would be her hero for the rest of her days, and she
would
make him happy.

Millicent, although not vain, had a reasonable appreciation of her own looks. She was pretty enough to gratify most men, she thought, and she was not stupid, whatever her father might think. She would discover what the duke’s interests were, and make them her own interests as well. She would live in the country if he wished, even though she knew little of that life, or remain here in London, where she would never,
ever
do anything to bring dishonour upon her new name.

She could make him happy. She could. And nothing that transpired during their carriage ride in Hyde Park had made Millicent doubt her resolve, or had suggested to her that pleasing the Duke of Grentham would be impossible.

Nothing, that was, until they had come upon another carriage, a fine barouche with two ladies and a young gentleman who had danced with Lady Millicent that same evening, and whose name–to Milly’s embarrassment–she could not now remember.

Oh, yes. Lord Maximilian Detweiler.

The ladies were dressed in the first stare and they were both striking, one with hair as black as Lord Detweiler’s and large, silver-grey eyes, the other fair, with white-gold hair and a porcelain complexion. Lady Millicent was normally no more envious than she was vain, but next to this woman she felt self-conscious, felt herself, in comparison, to be a brown mouse.

The blonde woman was familiar, somehow. Lady Millicent thought she must have seen her at the ball.

“Lady Detweiler,” nodded the duke, and he began to make introductions. Lady Millicent, still flustered, heard the names and she must have made the appropriate acknowledgments, for everyone was smiling and gracious, and no-one looked at her as if she was making some horrible
faux pax
. Lady Amanda Detweiler was the cousin, it seemed, of Lord Maximilian. And Lady Pamela Sinclair was the blonde, as stunningly beautiful as the duke was handsome.

They chatted for a few minutes, engaging in the usual complaints about the weather and exchanging the latest society
on dits
, although no-one, to Milly’s relief, mentioned a word about the Duke of Lincolnshire’s ball. All in all, an unexceptionable conversation, as commonplace as rain.

But now, as they drove away, Lady Millicent’s heart thudded, and her heart raced, and she thought she could not bear the hours she would need to wait before talking to Lady Annabelle.

She had not known it until that very minute, thought Milly. How could she have known it? But everything was changed, and all her new-found plans and resolutions were as nought.

The Duke of Grentham was in love.

* * * *

Benjamin handed Lady Millicent down from the phaeton and accompanied her to the earl’s doorstep.

She smiled up at him tentatively, her eyes wide and brown.

“Thank you, your grace,” said Millicent. “I very much enjoyed our ride.”

He bowed, and searched for some commonplace, some phrase that would allow him to bid his fiancée a quick
adieu
. Did she expect warm glances and words of affection from him? Perhaps even a kiss? The duke did not find Lady Millicent objectionable in any way, but the thought of bestowing even a fleeting peck brought pain, a kind of pain he had never before experienced.

Was this torment to be his daily accompaniment? Or nightly–

But the duke’s thoughts shied from that direction.

Benjamin knew that the usual ending to such an afternoon was for the gentleman to accompany his affianced bride into her home, to spend some time with the family. He could hardly imagine passing more than a minute in the company of the Earl of Banbridge, but the daughter should not be held accountable for her father’s faults, and indeed Benjamin already felt some affection for the girl.

She had done her best to be pleasant company during their carriage ride, and considering that she had suffered a horrible assault not two nights before, the duke found Lady Millicent possessed of a fine spirit and considerable common sense.

The apple, in this case, had fallen far from the tree.

And he could not walk away. Benjamin could not back out of the engagement now and abandon Millicent Chambers to the earl’s machinations. He viewed her in the same light as he viewed his cousin Helène; a young woman, as it were, under his protection.

And he would have happily continued to play the same role in Millicent’s life as he had in Helène’s, but not as a husband.

The girl interrupted his dreary musings, her voice betraying nothing beyond a sunny good cheer. “I’m sure you have much work to do, my lord, and I find myself a trifle fatigued. I’m sure the countess longs to make a further acquaintance, but perhaps some other day...”

Lady Millicent trailed off, still smiling, and dropped him a quick curtsey. And she was gone.

* * * *

“Engaged?” repeated Josiah Cleghorn, his mouth dropping open in astonishment.

“Aye,” said Mrs. Throckmorton, grim-faced. “To some slip of an earl’s daughter, says Cook.”

“But– ’Taint possible! ’Taint!”

“ ’Tis.”

“I would ha’ known!” Josiah’s conception of his life’s role, his relationship to the duke, was foundering. He took a long swig of his half-beer and set the glass down with a
thud
, making no attempt to hide his anger and consternation. Amber liquid sloshed out, but the housekeeper made no comment.

Engaged!

Mrs. Throckmorton would understand his feelings, thought the valet, sure an’ she would. He and the housekeeper had spent a fair piece of time together this past month, their common interest being the Duke of Grentham. Josiah had explained it all; explained about meeting Lord Torrance aboard that benighted, devil-run ship, and the duke havin’ saved his hide more ‘n a time or two. A fine figure of a woman Mrs. Throckmorton was, and as fond of her pint as the valet. Josiah had grown to appreciate the housekeeper’s company, and he found himself spending a bit more time belowstairs as the weeks ran on.

But ’twas no consolation in the present case.

“Come on fast, says Cook. Met her at that fancy ball.”

“The
Lincolnshires’
ball?” said the valet, aghast. “Jus’ two nights ago?”

“Aye.”

The valet shook his head. He would have discounted the intelligence at once, had he less respect for Cook’s standing along the servant’s grapevine.

“Eh, Mrs. Throck’ n, this be no good.”

“Truth be, Mr. Cleghorn.” She took a swig of her own beer.

“He don’ love some earl’s chit. He loves that Lady Pam.”

“Aye,” said the housekeeper.

* * * *

Lady Millicent was staring at Lady Annabelle in bewildered indignation.

“In debt? But that’s not possible!”

“Hush,” said Belle, glancing around at the group of dowagers and bored young gentlemen who were now assembling in Lady Tate’s grand
salon
for the
musicale
.

“My father is an earl!”

Annabelle sighed. Their conversation had begun in a babble of news.
Engaged
, said Milly, and at first Belle had assumed the engagement was to Lord Castlereaugh, but Lady Millicent had been less disconsolate than she might have expected, and it was several minutes before Annabelle had understood the situation correctly. The Duke of Grentham! thought Belle, remembering the very handsome gentleman she had seen at the ball. She had not known his name, but her brother had pointed him out during dinner.

Rich as Croesus, said Jason. And to have fought off that horrid Lord Castlereaugh! It all sounded very romantic, with Lord Torrance as Lady Millicent’s shining knight, come to the rescue.

But in the meantime, before all this was understood, Belle happened to mention the reason for Millicent’s upcoming and precipitous wedding, having agonized for so long about withholding this confidence, and thinking that her friend should at least know
why
she was being forced into marriage, only to discover that ’twas not Lord Castlereaugh at all. And now Lady Millicent was upset, and Annabelle could hardly blame her, for her entire world had been turned upside down.