Scandalous Brides: In Scandal in Venice\The Spanish Bride (32 page)

Peter’s gaze was steady on Carmen, his eyes calm and expressionless as blue ice. “Did I not say so, Lizzie? How remiss of me? I believe you have met Lady Deidra Clearbridge.”

“Yes, of course.” Elizabeth slowly held out her hand to the petite blonde. “How lovely to see you again, Lady Deidra.”

“Yes,” Deidra answered, her voice low and musical. “How do you do, Lady Elizabeth.”

“This is Elizabeth’s husband, Sir Nicholas Hollingsworth,” Peter added. “And ... the famous Condesa de Santiago.”

Deidra inclined her red-gold head. “So lovely to meet both of you. And such a very pretty frock, Condesa. You must give me the name of your mantuamaker.”

“Yes, of course,” Carmen answered, hoping that her voice would remain steady and cool. “Your own gown is quite—delightful. Lady Deidra.”

Deidra gave a small, rather tight smile. Perhaps she had read that ridiculous gossip about the Dacey ball and moonlit terraces. Confounded scandalmongers.

Elizabeth gave her brother one long, speaking look. “I think the play is about to resume. Shall we see you later at Clifton House, Peter?”

“Of course. Shall I order a cold supper?”

“No, no, we—the three of us—are going out to supper.”

“Then, I shall see you tomorrow.”

“Yes,” Elizabeth said. “We have so much to talk about, brother dear.”

Elizabeth linked one arm in Nicholas’s and the other in Carmen’s, and led them away from the golden pair that was watching them walk away.

Elizabeth had a very thoughtful look on her face. Carmen felt sure she should be afraid.

The house was dark and silent when Carmen arrived back in the wee hours, the merest bit unsteady on her feet after the champagne supper she had enjoyed with Nicholas and Elizabeth. One candle had been left burning on the table in the foyer, and Carmen took it up and made her way to Isabella’s room.

Her daughter was sleeping curled up on her side, one tiny fist under her cheek. Her golden curls were tangled on her lace-edged pillows, and her dreams were causing a frown to mar her fair brow.

She looked so like her father when she slept, fighting battles even in slumber.

Carmen put down the candle and bent to place a careful kiss on Isabella’s cheek, to smooth the curls back from her face.

Isabella stirred, blinking her brown eyes open. “Mama? Is that you?”

“Yes, darling, it is me. I’m home.”

“Were you with Lady Elizabeth?”

“Yes, and her husband. Did you have a good evening with Esperanza?”

“Um-hm. We had a blanc mange for dessert. I do like Lady Elizabeth, Mama.”

“I am glad you liked her, dear. She is very nice, and I am sure she liked
you
a great deal.”

“I never saw a grown-up eat
three
ices before. How does she not get very fat?”

Carmen laughed. “I don’t know, darling!”

“Will I see her again soon?”

“On Thursday, if you like. We are going riding in the park.”

“That is very good, Mama. You need a friend.”

Oh, the wisdom of the young. Carmen smiled. “You are quite right, Bella. I think Lady Elizabeth and I will be very good friends. So you shall see her on Thursday. But now you must go back to sleep.”

Isabella yawned hugely in agreement. “Good night, Mama.”

“Good night,
querida.”

Carmen pressed one more kiss on her daughter’s soft cheek, then left, closing the door gently behind her.

Her own room was warm with a banked fire in the grate, the bedclothes turned back invitingly. Carmen sighed wearily, and went to her dressing table to remove her jewels.

Propped there against the jewel case was the afternoon post, which she had missed in the excitement of preparing for the evening. She sifted listlessly through the new invitations and letters.

Then she froze.

In her hand was a cheap envelope, addressed to her in dark block letters and sealed with that ominous black wax.

Slowly, reluctantly, she broke the seal with the back of her brooch and read the words written there.

Chapter Eight

“S
hould you be spending so much time with the condesa, Elizabeth?”

Peter’s voice was quiet and calm as he confronted his sister, yet there was steel in his words.

Elizabeth tossed her hat and riding crop onto a library chair, and began peeling off her gloves. “Indeed?”

“People may begin to think that—well, that your friendship, along with those gossiping articles in the papers, may give the impression that there could be something between our-our families.”

“Why, Peter, never say you are stammering! I believe your infamous composure is rattled.” Elizabeth grinned at him. “Are you afraid that Lady Deidra may decline your attentions if there are rumors about—your family and the condesa?”

“Elizabeth ...”

“Surely it is only proper that your sister get to know your wife.”

At that, his “infamous composure” shattered entirely. He shot up from his chair, his hands planted on his desk. “How did you know ... ? Did she say...?”

“Don’t be so bacon-brained! Did you not show me her miniature only last year, and tell me of your marriage in Spain? I knew her the first—well, the second moment I saw her at the Dacey ball. She is quite distinctive.”

Peter slowly sat back down, and rubbed his hand across his face. “Your memory is too sharp by half, Lizzie.”

“I am an artist; it is my calling to remember faces. And I do truly like Carmen, since I have had a chance to know her. She is kind and tells such funny stories. And she is a bruising rider! She quite left me, and all her admirers, in the dust at the park this afternoon. And, furthermore, she is quite as intelligent as she is beautiful, unlike so many of your other chosen companions, who shall remain nameless. Truly a match for you, brother. Here I thought there could never be a woman in the world who could tolerate you!”

He smiled reluctantly. “I thought we were a match once, as well. Such did not prove to be the case. Now we have moved forward with our lives.”

Elizabeth studied him quietly for a long moment. Then she slowly shook her head. “You are being a fool.”

“I told you what happened in Spain, Lizzie!”

“With all respect, Peter, sometimes you cannot see past the end of your nose! I do not know exactly what happened in Spain, of course, but I know that Carmen would never have played you, or anyone, false. Nicholas feels the same as I, and he was there!”

“You do not know what you are speaking of. People said ... I saw ...” He broke off with a soft curse. “Nicholas was always charmed by her, and now so are you.”

“There is no talking to you when you are in a mood.” Elizabeth gathered up the train of her riding habit. “I am going to bathe and change. We are going to Lady Carstairs’s rout tonight. Will you be there?”

“I do plan to attend.”

“With Lady Deidra?”

“Perhaps. Are you and Nicholas bringing Carmen?”

“Of course. We are so ‘charmed’ by her, we want to spend every bit of time we can with her!” She smiled sweetly. “So we shall see you there.”

“May I go, Mama?” Isabella leaned against Carmen’s leg as she sat at her dressing table brushing her hair, one tiny hand stroking the soft satin of Carmen’s deep burgundy-red gown.

Carmen laughed. “Not tonight! You are still too young for balls, Bella. When you are all grown-up, and make your bow, we shall have the grandest, most extravagant ball anyone has ever seen.”

“And I’ll have a satin gown? A pink one? And diamonds?” She reached for her mother’s diamond bracelet and slid it over her own arm, admiring the flash of it against her nightgown sleeve.

“Whatever you like.” Carmen held a ruby and diamond drop on a gold chain up to her throat. “This one, Bella?”

Isabella cocked her little head to one side. “Yes, that is pretty.”

“I think so, too.” Carmen fastened the necklace about her throat and reached for the matching earrings.

“Will Lady Elizabeth come to my ball?”

“Of course she will! As will hundreds of other people, everyone we have ever met.”

Isabella’s gaze fell as she fidgeted with Carmen’s enameled pot of rice powder. “But there won’t be ...”

“Won’t be what, darling?”

“Esperanza has been reading me a book where the princess dances with her father, the king, at a ball, and then she meets Prince Charming. But I won’t have a father to dance with.”

Carmen looked down at her daughter in shock. She put her arm about her and hugged her close. “Oh, Bella! I am certain that there will be many, many men to dance with you at every ball you ever attend, including a Prince Charming.”

Isabella smiled, but it was rather watery. “Yes, of course.” The knocker on the front door sounded, and she brightened. “That’s Lady Elizabeth! May I go down and say hello, Mama? She promised to come in and say hello to me specially.”

“Yes, of course, dear, if you will give me my bracelet back. Tell her I will be down directly.”

Carmen watched Isabella scamper away before she let her smile fade.

Isabella had very seldom asked about her father. She had always been so content with Carmen’s brief explanation that her father had been a very brave man who had died in the war, and gone to heaven when Isabella was very small. And, despite a small wistfulness on the very few occasions Carmen had allowed a gentleman to come to their house to escort her to a party, Isabella had seemed entirely content to have her mother to herself.

Whatever could have brought on such questions now? Could it be only the book that Esperanza was reading to her?

Carmen only hoped that Esperanza was not putting too many ideas into Isabella’s head with those fairy stories. Kings did not suddenly appear on white horses to set princesses lives aright in one fell swoop, after all. As Carmen herself well knew.

The Carstairs rout was not the dreadful crush the Dacey ball had been, but carriages were still lined up around the street, waiting to disgorge their passengers. A few people, in their silks and jewels, had become impatient and were now walking along the pavement to the front doors.

Carmen watched these pedestrians from her carriage window, fidgeting with the tiny buttons on her gloves. She was almost tempted to claim a megrim and ask the Hollingsworths to take her back home. It was sure to be a long, trying evening.

She knew, though, that Elizabeth would guess right away that Carmen was afraid of encountering Peter and his Lady Deidra again. It would be just too humiliating for her cowardice to be so exposed!

So she adjusted the small, burgundy-colored satin turban, fastened with a ruby brooch, that held her hair in place, and smiled brightly at Elizabeth and Nicholas.

Elizabeth beamed in return. She had been quite uncharacteristically quiet on the short drive, occasionally tapping one finger against her chin thoughtfully.

She reminded Carmen of Isabella, when she was plotting some mischief.

But all Elizabeth did was dig about in her reticule and come up with a letter, which she handed over to Carmen. “I have such a surprise for you!”

“A surprise?” Carmen looked down suspiciously at the paper. “What is it?”

“Just read it. It is not a snake; it will not bite you.”

Carmen slowly unfolded it. “A voucher to Almack’s?”

Elizabeth laughed and clapped her hands. “Isn’t it too grand? I painted Lady Castlereagh’s portrait last year, and she was very pleased with it. She was more than happy to give you a voucher. We can go the Wednesday after we return from the country.”

“Oh, Lizzie!” Carmen giggled at the thought of a dull, socially correct evening at Almack’s. Would she have to wear white? “Whyever would I want to go to Almack’s? I am no young miss trying to snare a husband! I hear that the refreshments are abominable.”

Elizabeth shrugged. “Perhaps. But then, a voucher to Almack’s is essential to getting along in Society—even for a countess. It gives one such an air of respectability. And you never know who you will encounter there.”

“You are up to something, Lizzie,” Nicholas said sternly.

“I certainly am not! I am up to nothing but doing a small favor for a friend.”

Carmen tucked the voucher away. “Well, thank you, Lizzie. I shall certainly go to Almack’s with you, as you have been such a fine friend to me. If I am still in England then.”

Elizabeth looked at her sharply. “Still in England? Never say you are planning to leave us already? I have so many plans!”

“I do not know. I have learned never to set definite plans in my life. They always seem to end up changing.”

“But you cannot ...” Elizabeth began.

Nicholas laid his hand on her arm. “Now, dearest, if you hound Carmen, she is sure to leave us! You must allow her, and Peter, to find their own way.”

His voice was low, meant only for his wife’s ears, but Carmen heard him still. She turned away, blushing.

She had not blushed since she was a schoolgirl, at the Carmelite convent, whispering with her friend Elena Granjero. That had been many, many years ago, and yet now she so often felt the telltale warmth in her cheeks again!

“Oh, look!” she cried in relief as the carriage halted at the doors. “We have arrived at last.”

The dancing had already begun by the time they made their way through the receiving line, and a stately pavane was forming on the dance floor. The crowd was of a goodly size, but the hum of conversation was still low.

“I do hope we can liven things up,” Elizabeth said. “Or I will have wasted a new gown on a very dull evening!”

“A new gown is
never
wasted,” Carmen answered. “Nicholas shall have to bribe the orchestra to play a waltz, and the two of you can scandalize everyone by dancing far too close. Perhaps you could even kiss!”

Elizabeth shook her head. “ ‘Tis no good! We are an old married couple, and no one is shocked by what we do any longer. We shall have to find someone for
you
to waltz with.”

“Such as who?” Carmen laughed. “Lord Stonehurst, perhaps?” She gestured with her closed fan to the portly little marquis, who was trying to wink at her in an alluring fashion. He looked a bit like a fish.