The Willful Widow (18 page)
by Evelyn Richardson
decided the fate of nations, London, with the same old faces, the same old
on-dits,
the same scheming mamas and their marriage-mad daughters, had been deucedly flat. Alfred, bless his hidebound soul, had offered an intrigue of sorts to occupy his mind, and, desperate for diversion, he had eagerly grasped at the opportunity.
And it had been amusing. Lady Diana had been a far more worthy opponent than he had expected. She was a clever, even a witty antagonist who revealed unexpected depths that, he was forced to admit, had piqued his interest; but this was going too far. Justin St. Clair would not have endured one fashionable ball even for a woman to whom he was madly attracted, and now here he was attending a second. He paused on the threshold of the ballroom ablaze with light from the huge crystal chandeliers and the reflections off silks, satins, and the jewels draped around the necks of young and old, glittering in elegant coiffures and encircling plump wrists. There was Sally Jersey holding court as usual, chattering and flirting with a bevy of admirers. Over in a corner, Mrs. Drummond-Burrell was haughtily observing the scene while making her usual pronouncements to the town tabbies who hung fawningly on her every word. And in between them was a sea of eager faces—young misses hoping to catch the eye of an eligible parti, town beaux surveying the latest crop of beauties, anxious mamas thrusting their daughters into the perfect position to be noticed. But nowhere did he catch a glimpse of the coolly elegant figure of Lady Diana Hatherill. He knew her well enough to be certain that she would stand out among the crowd as she had at the opera, the 165
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Argyll Rooms, and the Countess of Axbridge's rout. Perhaps it was her taste for simple but arresting costume that made everyone else seem fussy and overdressed, perhaps it was her self-possession or the proud air with which she carried herself, but she was always easy to pick out in any gathering. And she was most definitely not part of this one. He turned to go, but before he could make any headway toward the door, a voice cooed in his ear, "Justin, you naughty man, you shall not escape this time without dancing with me."
Blanche! He was well and truly caught, and he did at least owe her a dance from the last time he had cut her. Sighing inwardly, he summoned a civil smile to his face and turned to extend a hand. "But of course. Lady Blanche. I should never treat a neighbor so shabbily." In fact, Lady Blanche had not been a neighbor when he had lived at Winterbourne, but that had never kept the lady from presuming on her close geographical connection to the rest of the family to establish a closer relationship with one of London's most eligible bachelors.
Blanche had pouted mightily when her papa, a newly created peer, had elected to leave the metropolis in order to acquire respectability with some acreage in the country. Ruralizing did not agree with a young woman accustomed to attracting an enviable following among the town bucks wherever she went until she discovered the identity of the younger brother to the pompous, verbose earl and his equally dull wife, whose land marched next to her father's. 166
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Her appreciation for the charms of country life had increased with every opportunity she had to encounter Justin St. Clair. Not one to be swayed by a handsome face alone, she had taken careful note of his elegant equipage, impressive stable, and exquisitely cut jackets, and she had immediately written him down as an acquaintance worthy of cultivation. Discreet inquiries as to the size of his income and his reputation in the
ton
had only furthered her desire to form a closer connection, and she had done her best to cross his path whenever possible.
If her parents took any notice of their darling's sudden interest in making the rounds of the neighborhood, calling on people she had previously stigmatized as a set of country bumpkins, or a passion for the local hunt that she had often described as a gang of greasy farmers, they made no mention of it, merely being thankful for the peace from her complaints and her sighings for London.
As for Justin, at first he had been only too delighted to feast his eyes on a face of dazzling beauty, a ravishing figure, and a well-turned ankle. A little flirtation was a delightful antidote to his brother's endless monologues on the folly of the Prince Regent, the wastefulness of the government, and the shocking morals of the
ton
in general, but he was not about to offer anything more. He had seen the acquisitive light in the eyes of women bent on catching him in the parson's mousetrap often enough not to recognize the gleam in Blanche's eye, and he played a very careful game—never allowing them to be caught alone where he could be forced 167
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into disastrous intimacy, and avoiding all talk that related even in the slightest to his future.
He had been even more evasive in the very public eye of the
ton
and did his best, without being brutal, to dampen the playfully possessive air she adopted toward him. It was the fear that he had been rather too abrupt before for which he was now paying the price by dancing with her. But he did wish she would stop chattering and just let him enjoy in peace the ripe expanse of bosom revealed by her décolletage or the tantalizing outline of her thigh against the thin silk of her gown.
Nodding at the appropriate moments and rewarding her with and occasional, "Most fascinating, no really?" which he inserted so adroitly that the lady never even noticed the slightly glazed look in his eyes or suspected for a moment that he had so successfully focused his attention elsewhere that her conversation was reduced to a soporific buzzing at the back of his mind, he was able to keep his mind on what truly concerned him—the location of Lady Diana. It was only when the dance ended that he nearly gave himself away by neglecting to stop with the music.
"Justin, you were not attending." A gathering frown wrinkled the smooth white forehead, and the enchanting corners of the full rosy lips turned down ever so slightly.
"But Blanche, how could I, when I was concentrating so much on the delightful picture you present?" he protested quizzing her.
"Naughty man," she laughed, tapping him with her fan and smiling with satisfaction. There, let Belinda Attwater eat her 168
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heart out over that. She might be a duke's daughter and an incomparable at that, but she had not captured a single partner as worthy of note as Justin St. Clair. Blanche tossed her head in a way most calculated to do justice to her exquisite profile, making sure that at least several pairs of envious eyes were fixed on her and her partner. It was fortunate for her pride, monumental though it was, that she was not privy to her quarry's thoughts, for all through the dance Justin had been casting about for a believable excuse to call at a certain house in Brook Street the next morning. Taking to heart Lady Walden's remarks, he had been reviewing every possible scrap of information he had overheard in Capel Court and the coffeehouses around the Stock Exchange, trying to dredge up something of note to bring to Lady Diana's attention, if she were at home that was—a state of affairs he very much doubted after his brief conversation with Reginald.
Aha! At last he had it—the waterworks. Knowing that Diana was familiar with agriculture and that Lady Walden would be well apprised of the state of the East India Company stocks, he felt certain that she would be concentrating her investments in those areas. Now, what was it he had heard about the waterworks? Oh yes, Jeremy Southbridge had alluded to some way of eliminating the fierce competition between the companies that was responsible for keeping share prices so low. It was something to bear in mind and which would surely add diversity to Lady Diana's finances. Justin smiled and nodded with satisfaction. That was the ticket. He could now drop by Brook Street with impunity. 169
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Gazing up at him, Blanche sighed with satisfaction. "I am so glad that you think Cleopatra is an appropriate costume for Lady Topham's masquerade. I had worried lest it be rather too daring, but if you approve, then it is certain to be a success." Blanche smiled coyly up at him. Justin gave a barely perceptible start as he frantically strove to bring his mind back to the present. "Oh, er, that is, I am glad you are reassured." Lord, what had he agreed to?
The masquerade, that was it. "I regret that I shall be unable to appreciate the results of your choice of character and costume, as I fear I shall be away from town." When was the silly masquerade anyway? He couldn't recall it, small wonder considering the stack of invitations gathering dust on his mantel where he had carelessly tossed them. However, he must remember to avoid it at all costs.
"It is too bad of you, Justin, for I intend to be the belle of the ball." Blanche pouted prettily, biting her lower lip in a way that had been known to drive lesser men mad with desire. I'll wager you do, he muttered grimly to himself. "In that case, you will hardly miss my support. But now, if you'll excuse me, I really must go—early morning tomorrow." And with that, he was off leaving her seething with frustration. Why was it that despite his address and his air of easy flirtation, she never felt certain of Justin's admiration. Blanche liked a man whose sophisticated tastes could do her justice, but St. Clair was just a little too practiced. Her eyes narrowed. We shall see, she nodded slowly to herself. When I am done, the high and mighty Justin St. Clair will be begging to dance with me. And she resolved to consult with her 170
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dressmaker the very next day about increasing the décolletage on the white satin ball gown with silver net. Then we shall see St. Clair, the beauty smiled slyly to herself. Then we shall see.
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Acting on his inspiration, Justin planned to present himself at Brook the next morning as soon as he had pumped Jeremy for all the information he could share concerning waterworks companies and the rumor of possible agreements among them to share the market in order to raise their rates. He finally ran Jeremy to earth at Garraway's, where he was enjoying a solitary pot of coffee. His friend's bony ugly face lit up at the sight of Justin. "Hello, Justin, don't tell me you've come to consult me for advice! You must have lost all your fortune at play if you are making use of something other than your own clever nose to smell out a bargain."
"Now Jeremy, I am not so toplofty that I can't acknowledge the value of someone else's opinions, or at least your opinions." Justin pulled up a chair while Jeremy called for more coffee.
Jeremy Southbridge, another acquaintance from university days, smiled. "Flattery will get you nowhere, St. Clair. I have heard of the enormous profits you've made. Others may call you a lucky devil, but I know better. You can't live next to a fellow for years without becoming accustomed to his ways. For all your love of cutting up a lark, you're a serious sort and when you wish to learn something, there's no one quicker than you."
"Come off it, Jerry," Justin scoffed. He was glad to see that his old friend had at last found success. Wherever Justin went, he heard Jeremy quoted and his name invoked to give 172
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credence to a venture. Son of a poor but scholarly clergyman, Jeremy had been sent to university to follow in his father's footsteps, but his independent spirit had rebelled against this fate. Strengthened largely by Justin's faith in his enormous abilities and his encouragement, he had eschewed the church for the city, where his quick grasp of affairs and his encyclopedic memory combined with a perfect wizardry with figures had soon made him a force to be reckoned with. But he had never forgotten how night after night Justin had listened sympathetically to him as he questioned his faith and wrestled with his conscience. Now it was with real pleasure and the hope mat he could at last return Justin's favors that he sat and considered intently all the questions his friend put to him.
"Yes, if she has placed her finances as you say, investment in waterworks shares might be highly advantageous. Mind you, the shares will remain as low as they are now for quite some time, but it is only a matter of time before they climb enough to make her a wealthy woman."
"Thank you, Jerry. She hasn't a great deal to invest, but she has an excellent grasp of such things, and I know she will appreciate your counsel." Justin rose and shook his friend's hand.
"She must be a rare creature, indeed. There are very few men I know, present company excepted, who can be said to understand these things," his friend replied with a rueful grimace.
"Thank you. That is high praise. Yes, she is a rare creature," he responded wryly, thinking of his various 173
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contretemps
with the lady in question and trying to envision the next one. After a few more desultory remarks and reminiscences, Justin quitted his friend and headed around to Brook Street where, just as he had expected, Finchley informed him that Lady Diana was not at home.
"Very well then. could you tell her that St. Clair called and will call again tomorrow?"
"I am afraid, sir, that Lady Diana has been called out of town, and we are not certain precisely when to look for her return." There was real regret in the butler's voice, for he still cherished hopes that this particular gentleman was interested in his mistress.
"Oh." Justin adopted an air of studied casualness. "Then I suppose I had best speak to Lady Walden."
"She is out at the moment as well, but I shall tell her you called. I am sure she will be happy to receive you another day." With some difficulty Finchley covered his disappointment. If the gentleman's business could be conducted with either of the ladies of the house, then it would not appear that his interest was the least bit amatory. He sighed inwardly. Then, in a rare departure from his usual dignified demeanor, he confided, "But we don't expect Lady Diana to be away for long. She has just gone down to Buckland to see to a few repairs."