My Wayward Lady (7 page)
Rousing himself from his reverie he rushed to the outer door, but the carriage had disappeared from view. Blast! For an experienced soldier he was making a very poor job of attaining his objective and learning the identity of the fair teacher at the Temple of Venus.
He would just have to keep patronizing Elinor Lovington's elegant establishment until he did discover who the Quakeress was. Lord Chalfont grinned at the memory of Kitty sprawled seductively across the bed this morning as he had bid her good-bye and headed downstairs. Not for her the lessons being taught in the opulently decorated sitting room. 61
My Wayward Lady
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Kitty was not the least bit interested in bettering herself. "I like my life the way it is," she responded simply on being questioned about the entire project. "Not that Miss Harriet isn't as kind a lady as one could hope to meet—offering to help us and all, but I don't wish to be helped. I like what I do." She grinned saucily at him.
"And you do it so well too." Adrian chuckled as he traced the outline of one dark curl draped provocatively over a plump breast.
"With a gentleman like yourself, sir, it is a pleasure." Kitty's eyes drifted hungrily across the broad chest covered with tight gold curls and down to the flat stomach. She sighed with contentment. She was indeed fortunate. Lord Chalfont was so skilled a lover she sometimes felt as though she should be paying him instead of the other way around. "Now with the others it takes more art."
"Oh?"
"Yes. Take, for example. Lord Sherburne—an ugly little man if there ever was one, and so shy. That wife of his is as cold as a block of ice. I saw them together at the opera once. She is handsome enough, but so prim and proper she could freeze the blood in your veins. Poor man. No wonder he comes here where he can find a bit of warmth and comfort." At her words the vision of Alicia's coldly perfect features and flawless complexion rose before Adrian, but he banished it as quickly as it had come, focusing instead on Kitty's entrancingly full lower lip which gleamed deliciously as she ran her tongue slowly over it. "He is most fortunate to have you, Kitty, to, ah, warm him up."
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"I know." Kitty smiled. "I am
very
good at what I do." She reached for him. "And I could be very good to you again, my lord."
"Thank you." Adrian grabbed his shirt, buttoning it hastily.
"I have a mind to see what this Miss Harriet can do." Lord Chalfont had enjoyed his night with Kitty very much indeed and in addition she had been able to offer him a little more information about the elusive Quakeress. The girls of the Temple of Venus had been told that she was to be called Miss Harriet and nothing more. She came once a week on Tuesdays and was helping the girls to learn to read so they could better themselves and would not be forced to depend on a livelihood in which they were valuable only as long as their youth and beauty lasted. Kitty, whose mother before her had plied the trade, had chosen her profession, but she was unique among Mrs. Lovington's ladies. Most of the others had had it forced upon them by unfortunate circumstances and they longed for nothing more than to find a way out of it. Not only had Miss Harriet promised to teach them to read, do sums, and speak and act like ladies, but she had also offered her assistance in finding them positions as maids or shop girls when they had mastered their lessons.
Kitty appeared to have the utmost confidence that Miss Harriet would be able to accomplish all of this. "For she has a fearful amount of energy, that one," Kitty averred. "Why already Fanny is giving herself airs and talking like a lady, not to mention forever practicing her lessons. She is constantly poring over those fashion plates Miss Harriet brings in—says Miss Harriet is going to find her a place in a fine 63
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establishment on Bond Street or maybe a position in a shop in her village."
"Ah." Absorbed in tying his cravat, Adrian had barely been listening to her idle chatter, but his ears had pricked up at this information. "And which village is that?" Undoubtedly a person as forceful as Miss Harriet would be well known in any village she frequented and, if he did not miss his guess, she was probably a member of some rather influential family whose principal seat was in the village's vicinity.
"I do not know. Fanny did not say, just that Miss Harriet knew of one. And she also has a friend who might need Violet as a nursemaid. Violet is ever so fond of children and was, I believe, a nursemaid before the master of the house got her with child. She was desperate to have the baby in spite of everything, but the poor little thing was born
dead.
Which is all to the good if you ask me for Violet was in dreadful condition when Bessie found her, so thin she was nothing more than a bag of bones."
"This Miss Harriet of yours seems to be nothing short of a sorceress if she can bring about all she promises," Lord Chalfont remarked idly as he shrugged into his coat which he had refused to let fit as snugly as the tailor had wished, insisting that he preferred his coats loose enough so he could don them without requiring the assistance of a valet.
"That she is." Kitty responded. "The girls fair dote on her for she is ever so quick and knows so much about everything, but she is not the least high in the instep." 64
My Wayward Lady
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"A most unusual female, in fact," the Marquess of Kidderham agreed as he glanced quickly in the looking glass to give a final twitch to his cravat.
That morning's little discussion with Kitty had only whetted his appetite for information about the fair schoolteacher and now, malingerer that he was, he had let her get away and lost his chance to discover her identity until next week. Shaking his head in disgust Adrian stepped out into St. James and headed toward his chambers. He had rather a full day in front of him what with his appointment to escort Alicia and her mother to the park and later to a performance of
The School
for Scandal.
Adrian sighed. His life was not his own any longer. Even as an aide-de-camp, subject as he had been to the orders of Wellington and the other commanders, he had possessed more freedom than he did now with what was expected of him as the future husband of an incomparable. Alicia was never openly demanding—she was never so ill-bred as to be that—she was merely serenely confident of the attention that was her due and expected nothing less from him. His duty was very plain however unstated. Sometimes Adrian wished she would come right out and order him around; then he would have felt at least a little freer to refuse her. As it was now, if he failed to respond with sufficient enthusiasm to some plan of hers, she merely looked pained and withdrew into a reproachful silence that made him feel a perfect beast for not leaping to fulfill her every wish. Adrian shook his head as he turned the corner into Piccadilly. It was unlike him to indulge in such an orgy of self65
My Wayward Lady
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pity. His responsibility was plain. He had a role to play that had been clearly laid out for him since infancy and now it was time to play it. He had never been under any illusions as to what was expected of him and he had always been one to honor his obligations.
Buck up man,
he admonished himself severely,
you have never been one to complain about what
life has in store for you. You will do your duty like a man.
Stop dwelling on any misgivings you might have, and make
the best of it.
And thus it was, fortified by this bracing little speech to himself that he was able to ride alongside the De Villiers'
barouche that afternoon with all the proper attentiveness required of a fiancé. In truth, he told himself, he was a lucky man. Alicia did look ravishing in a primrose carriage dress of jaconet muslin ornamented with bows of palest pink. A fetching Polish cap completed the ensemble that was responsible for envious looks cast in her direction by the occupants of several other carriages.
Adrian consoled himself with the thought that it was not so much the idea of Alicia that he was having trouble adjusting to as it was the whole concept of marriage and settling into a dull respectable life full of fashionable routs and dinner parties and the inevitable duties of a country landowner. He could always depend on her to present an exquisite appearance and to behave with the utmost propriety, and he could count himself lucky that she did not chatter nor was given to gossip overmuch as so many women were. Few of his friends could expect to find so much in a wife and he should consider himself fortunate in the person who was the 66
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other half of the long-standing arrangement between the two ancient and distinguished families, the De Villiers and the Chalfonts.
The fact that Alicia lacked passion and enthusiasm was a small price to pay when he was gaining a wife who would always do him proud in the eyes of the fashionable world, while someone like the spirited Miss Harriet would continually have him on tenterhooks wondering which cause she would take up next and who she would dedicate herself to rescuing. Lord Chalfont stopped his horse dead in its tracks and blinked in astonishment. Now where had the idea of Miss Harriet come from? But now that it was there he could not rid himself of it. Taking up the reins he resumed his pace and, glancing down at Alicia who sat serenely in her place acknowledging acquaintances now and then with a gracious nod, he pictured how Harriet would be, the sun gleaming on her red curls, her face bright with interest as she surveyed the passing scene. In all probability, however, she would not be sitting tamely in a barouche. From the little he had seen of that lively young woman, he was relatively certain that she would ride her own horse or drive herself in some dashing vehicle.
"...make Lord Chalfont known to Lady Kilbride." His fiancée's well-modulated voice intruded into Adrian's thoughts and he looked down to see Alicia waving to a stately looking dowager nodding to them from an approaching landau.
"So very happy, such an honor, so delighted for dearest Alicia," the lady gushed enthusiastically, inspecting him as critically as anyone he had ever seen examining the prime 67
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bits of blood at Tattersall's. Indeed, Adrian felt like nothing so much as a prize hunter or a beautifully matched team as they greeted Alicia's various acquaintances. Many of these were already known to him, but those who were not scrutinized him with the same degree of interest that one might accord a prized piece of livestock.
At least,
he muttered bitterly to himself as another barouche of town tabbies bade farewell to them,
they appear to think she has done well for herself. I
suppose I should be grateful for that.
But he was not. And Adrian returned to his quarters in Mount Street in a savage mood, thoroughly disgusted with humanity in general and the
ton
in particular. In fact, the only thing that truly cheered him was the prospect of returning to Mrs. Lovington's next Tuesday to discover more about Harriet. At least she was a woman who demanded nothing from him except his absence. He chuckled at the thought of how very put out she had been when he had reappeared in her class and how very hard she had tried to hide it. The marquess could hardly wait to put her out all over again, but he was forced to contain his impatience for an entire week as best he could, enduring tame excursions to Hyde Park at the fashionable hour and even tamer appearances at the plethora of balls and routs for which Alicia and her mother required his escort. Alicia's father, lucky dog, had managed to have himself urgently recalled to the country the moment he had established his women in London. Thus it was that no matter how often Lord Chalfont frequented Brooks' or Tattersall's or Gentleman Jackson's in an effort to enliven his existence and balance out his days 68
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with a little companionship, time hung heavy on his hands. In a word, and for the first time in his life, the Marquess of Kidderham was bored, utterly, thoroughly, and completely bored, with no hope of relief in sight, except for next Tuesday.
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Harriet, on the other hand, was finding herself to be far more entertained than she had hoped to be in London. By day she pored over all the educational texts she could lay her hands on, only allowing her sister to drag her for an occasional drive in the park. In the evenings she dutifully made her appearance at the various functions that Lady Elizabeth and Lord Rokeby were attending. Once there, she devoted much of her time and energy to conversations with various highborn ladies about their servants and the possibility that they might want a likely looking young person to act as an upstairs maid or an abigail for one of their daughters. One thing she was discovering, however, was the almost universal prejudice against pretty girls, no matter how bright or eager they might be.
"They are forever after the gentlemen in the house," one hatchet-faced woman, happening to overhear her conversation, complained shaking her head so vigorously that her diamond earrings danced. "You have no notion of the maids I have had to dismiss because they would throw themselves in my husband's path." She pursed her thin lips in disgust, an expression that only made her face appear even more like a hedgehog's.
It was with great difficulty that Harriet refrained from making a tart retort, for the woman's husband was well known as a lecher even among the gently bred ladies of the
ton
who had been forced to endure his lascivious looks and 70
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conversations full of improper innuendo. From the little she had learned at Mrs. Lovington's, Harriet knew that things were more likely to be quite the other way around. A girl who depended on a life in service for her livelihood was far from inclined to risk soliciting masculine attention no matter how attracted she might be to the males in the household, for to be caught in a compromising situation almost certainly meant dismissal and the elimination of all prospects of similar employment elsewhere.