Lucy Muir (11 page)

“Lord Woolbridge,” he said, recognising Lady Conliffe’s frequent escort, feeling proud of himself at having stolen a march on the viscount.

“Sheldon.” Lord Woolbridge nodded briefly and turned back to Lady Conliffe.

“I wished to request the pleasure of your hand for the next dance,” he said, unable to think of anything else to do.

“Thank you, but I have already promised the next set to Lord Atherby. It would be shockingly ill-mannered of me to dance with you when he has a prior claim,” she said, smiling, showing her beautifully white and even teeth. “Perhaps another time.”

“Yes, of course,” Lord Woolbridge muttered, and with another nod to Mr. Sheldon, he went to join some friends, looking far from his usual debonair self.

Lady Conliffe got through the rest of the evening with a smile on her face, but she was seething inside. Miss Amberly would pay for the insult she had received this night, she and her cousin Miss Southwell. It did not matter to Lady Conliffe that the snub had been dealt by Lord Woolbridge, not Miss Amberly, nor that Miss Amberly could have had no knowledge of Lord Woolbridge’s promise to dance the opening set with another. Her anger was all directed towards the girl who was the unwitting cause of the humiliation of having a gentleman forget he had promised a dance to her. She, Lady Conliffe, should be the
cause
of such snubs, not the recipient.

All though the evening, as she danced, and later as she ate her supper, Lady Conliffe tried to think of a way to destroy Miss Amberly and Miss Southwell for good in the eyes of Society. Rumours were the best way, of course, but the ones she had started about their precarious financial situation had not had the effect she’d hoped. She would have to think of something stronger.

The cousins were seated at a supper table not far from hers, and Lady Conliffe looked at Miss Amberly thoughtfully. Then her gaze moved to Miss Southwell, who was dressed attractively in striped lutestring. Her eyes stayed on Miss Southwell, and she bit her lower lip speculatively. It occurred to her that Miss Amberly’s guardian seemed inordinately interested in that rake, Hell-born Harry.

She remembered how Miss Southwell had been staring at Lord Stanton in Hyde Park that day early in the Season, the glances she had stolen towards his box at the opera and how she had danced with him at Lady Brookfield’s. Perhaps such an interest in a rake indicated a propensity in Miss Southwell that she could exploit. No one knew anything of Miss Southwell’s history. It should be a relatively simple matter to cast doubt on her past. Yes, she would hint that Miss Amberly’s guardian was not as good as she should be. And she would begin some discreet investigations into the backgrounds of the cousins. She had been foolish not to have done so before.

The first genuine smile of the evening lit Lady Conliffe’s face, causing her supper partner, Lord Atherby, to think he must be a wit indeed to bring such a smile to the face of the Incomparable Lady Conliffe.

* * * *

Lady Brookfield was one of the first to hear of the new rumours about Miss Southwell. Since her brother had asked her to invite Miss Amberly and Miss Southwell to her ball, Caroline had watched the young women’s progress in Society with interest. When Lady Sefton mentioned them during a call she made on Lady Brookfield one morning, Caroline was instantly alert.

“I remember you invited Miss Amberly and Miss Southwell to your ball,” Lady Sefton said, sitting back on the comfortable Hepplewhite chair, prepared for a good gossip. “Are you aware of the latest
on dit
concerning them?”

Lady Brookfield confessed her ignorance, and Lady Sefton was pleased to enlighten her. “I had it from a most reliable source that Miss Southwell is no better than she should be. Such a pity for Miss Amberly, for she is such a charming girl,” she added with spurious sympathy.

Lady Brookfield laughed delightedly. “Wherever did you hear that? Nothing could be further from the truth,” she assured Lady Sefton, although she was not quite sure it was
not
the truth. Perhaps that explained her brother’s interest in Miss Southwell. Still, it would not do to have Miss Amberly’s chances destroyed.

“I heard it from Lady Conliffe,” Lady Sefton said, slightly indignant. “She had it from a woman who knew Miss Southwell in Brighton.”

“Lady Conliffe,” Lady Brookfield drawled. “Wasn’t there talk of a match between her and Lord Woolbridge before he joined Miss Amberly’s court? I wouldn’t put much faith in her information.”

Lady Sefton still appeared unconvinced, reluctant to give up such a juicy piece of gossip. Lady Brook-field deftly steered the conversation to other channels, determining to notify her brother of the rumours. If Harry had not already heard of them, he might wish to know. They could do serious damage.

As soon as Lady Sefton left, Lady Brookfield rang for her maid and went around to her brother’s town house on St. James, but he was not at home. She left a note, telling him what she had heard and where the rumour had apparently originated.

* * * *

Lord Stanton was at Brook’s, relaxing in a chair next to a blazing fire and reading a newspaper. He was perusing an interesting piece on Bonaparte’s escalating activities on the Continent when he thought he heard Anne’s name mentioned by some young bucks sitting on a sofa nearby.

“If that is true,” one of them was saying, “then perhaps the Incomparable Miss Amberly would not be that difficult to approach. I wouldn’t mind setting her up in a little house somewhere.”

“I’d prefer her guardian,” the first speaker said. “I like my women with a little more flesh.”

Lord Stanton hesitated momentarily. He could not like allowing such a scurrilous remark to pass, but if a man of his reputation championed them it might bring more unwelcome speculation. A low remark followed by a coarse laugh decided him. He put down his newspaper and walked over to the sofa, standing in front of the low table. The young gentlemen looked up, surprised to be receiving attention from a nonesuch like Lord Stanton. They greeted him with a heartiness that quickly changed to uncertainty as they saw the cold glint in his eye. Lord Stanton addressed the first speaker.

“Sedgewick, could I have heard you impugning the honour of two ladies who shall remain nameless?’’ he asked, pulling off his gloves deliberately.

At the look of steel in Lord Stanton’s eyes, any remaining bravado died in young Lord Sedgewick. Tales of early evening meetings at Primrose Hill and Hyde Park came to his mind.

“N—no, Lord Stanton, I am sure I would do no such thing,” he stammered.

“I rather thought I had misunderstood you,” Lord Stanton said, pulling his gloves back on. “I am glad to find that I was correct, for I would take it very ill to hear of any gently bred woman’s reputation being slandered.”

He inclined his head shortly to the two young men, who had both paled considerably.

“Good day, Sedgewick, Norton.”

“My lord,” Sedgewick said as Lord Stanton turned and walked away. He ran his fingers under his cravat, which suddenly felt much too light. He had the feeling he had had a very close call.

As Lord Stanton left the club and walked up the street, the irony of the situation hit him. He had been about to issue a challenge to a man, no, to a young cub, not to do the very thing
he
planned to do—destroy the reputation of Miss Southwell. It was no use telling himself that he would not do it so publicly—the end result would be the same.

What ailed him where the Southwell woman was concerned? He still desired her, and still intended to make her his mistress, but at the same time he had an urge to protect her. He strode along the street, swinging his walking stick with such a black scowl on his face that he unknowingly caused several passers-by to give him a wide berth.

He reached his town house and, after thrusting his top hat and stick at his footman, was handed two messages by his butler. One was from the Prince, who had arrived in London and wanted to see him. The other was from his sister. A thoughtful look came over his face as he read her note. So, Lady Conliffe was at the bottom of the rumour. Such a rumour could be far more damaging than the first, and more difficult to counteract. Why did it bother him, anyway? Wasn’t this what he had wanted, what he had foreseen when he first made the wager with Anne? Then why did he have the desire to wring Lady Conliffe’s slender neck? He sat in his study for a long time trying to figure out the answer before he remembered the summons from Prinny and set off for Carlton House.

* * * *

Anne did not hear of the new rumours until that afternoon. Captain Leslie called and requested that Anne drive out with him in his phaeton. She was a little surprised, when, after handing her into the vehicle, he dismissed the groom, instructing him to wait until they returned. He drove into Hyde Park, and when they reached a relatively quiet area, he halted and addressed Anne.

“I wished to talk to you alone, Miss Southwell. I hope you do not think me presumptuous, but I believe you know that I take a sincere interest in your welfare and that of your ward.”

“Yes, I know, Captain Leslie, and I appreciate your concern,” Anne said, wondering what had brought such a serious expression to the man’s face.

Captain Leslie was quiet a moment, as though he were not quite sure how to proceed.

“Are you aware, Miss Southwell, that there are rumours being spread about you?”

“Yes. Mrs. Halcott informed me that rumours were going about that we had no money, but they seemed to die quickly, and I have not noticed any ill effects from them.”

“It is not that rumour, but a new one.” Once again he hesitated, then plunged ahead. “The
on dit
now is that you are not quite what you should be.”

Anne looked at him questioningly, and he appeared very uncomfortable.

“It is nothing concrete, which makes it all the harder to counteract. But I am afraid your behaviour is the basis for the gossip. It is being said that while Melissa is what she claims, you are not what you pretend to be, but an adventuress using Melissa’s position to foist yourself upon the ton.” As Anne sat in shocked silence, he continued. “I fear your seclusion these past years is giving credence to the story. Few people are acquainted with you or your family, and those who are, are not of the highest ton.”

Anne stared unhappily into the distance, not seeing the beauty of the Park.

“I am sorry to have distressed you,” Captain Leslie said apologetically. “If it is any consolation to you, while this may close some of the doors of the ton to you, those who know you will continue to support you.”

“Do you have any advice as to how I may counteract the rumours?” Anne asked dispiritedly.

“I am afraid there is little you can do but continue to appear at those social functions still open to you. In the end, a new
on dit
will take precedence and this will be forgotten.”

Captain Leslie and Anne sat quietly as he drove slowly around the Park. After a few minutes he spoke again.

“This is not the time or place, Miss Southwell, but you must be aware of the regard in which I hold you. I had intended to speak later, but the circumstances lead me to show my hand earlier than I had planned. Please allow me to give you the protection of my name.”

Anne moved as if to speak, but Captain Leslie waved her to silence. “Please, allow me to finish. Although I am not wealthy, we would live comfortably. I am the youngest son of a baron, but with five older brothers; I have no expectations of inheriting the title. Your cousin would be welcome in our home until she marries, which I am sure she will despite the gossip.”

As Anne searched her mind for the appropriate response, Captain Leslie came to her rescue. “You need not think I require an answer immediately. It would greatly please me if you would consider my offer, but I shall not press you. You have much to concern you and I am content to wait.

Anne smiled in gratitude but was nevertheless grateful when Captain Leslie turned the horses towards home.

* * * *

About two hours after Anne left with Captain Leslie, Viscount Woolbridge called at Half Moon Street to ask if Melissa would care to go for a drive with him to Hyde Park. Melissa, who had been looking wistfully out the window at the fine day while she ostensibly worked at her embroidery, looked questioningly at Sanders, who nodded her head briefly.

Melissa went to fetch her parasol, gloves and pelisse and returned shortly with a happy smile of anticipation on her face. As she and Lord Woolbridge prepared to leave, she heard the front door opened as Anne returned from her drive with Captain Leslie. Viscount Woolbridge, with his customary punctilious good manners, asked Anne to accompany them. Anne hesitated before answering, moving Melissa to add her plea.

“Please do come with us,” she encouraged, not knowing that Anne’s hesitation stemmed from the fact that while she didn’t wish to go out driving again so soon, neither did she like to let Melissa go until she had been warned of the new rumours. “You are already dressed to go driving, and Lord Woolbridge’s bays are such sweet goers.”

Melissa blushed as the cant term slipped out, but her guardian didn’t seem to notice.

“Thank you, Lord Woolbridge,” Anne said, “I shall be pleased to accompany you and Melissa.”

The footman, who had been standing nearby, handed Anne back her parasol and gloves, and the three went out to where the groom held the viscount’s horses. Melissa thought her cousin looked rather serious as she was being handed into the glossy blue lacquered curricle, and wondered what had transpired on her drive with Captain Leslie. Well, a drive in the Park at the fashionable hour would restore her guardian’s spirits.

Viscount Woolbridge was a skilled whip, and expertly maneuvered his team through the crush of vehicles in Hyde Park. He had not gone far when he encountered a large carriage with a crest emblazoned on the side. The viscount inclined his head deeply to the Dowager Duchess of Carroll, and she deigned to stop and speak to him.

Melissa had been presented to the Dowager Duchess of Carroll, and found her quite intimidating, but as the dowager finished speaking to the viscount, Melissa looked up at her with a shy sweet smile, determined not to let her fear get in the way of her manners. But to Melissa’s surprise, the dowager looked right past her and ordered her carriage to move one. Melissa looked at Anne with surprise and hurt. Anne seemed unruffled by the dowager’s cut, and smiled at Melissa reassuringly.