Wife Errant (8 page)

“One wonders why she ever married him, if what she wanted was an archbishop, but there you are. A perfect scientific example of opposites attracting—
and the rapture of a love match dissipating within weeks.”
He glanced from the window as he spoke, then gave a startled jerk.

Tess looked to see what had caught his attention and saw Esmée Gardener. At the same moment, she recognized the lady’s partner. “It is Papa!”
she squealed. “With that horrid woman. Oh, I am sorry, Revel. I forgot she used to be your friend.”

“She is still my friend,”
he said curtly. “We parted amicably.”

“Let us follow them and see where they are going.”
She pulled the check string and the carriage drew to a stop, but Lord Revel did not budge an inch.

“There are limits to how far I am willing to go in this farce, Tess. I refuse to scuttle along Milsom Street, dogging the steps of an erstwhile mistress.”

“Of course, I understand,”
she said at once. “I’ll go alone, if you would please open the door.”

“You are not going to follow them alone!”
he declared.

“Don’t try to order me about!”
She wrenched open the door and began to get out. Revel closed it and pulled her roughly back onto the seat.

“Where did I ever get the idea you are a sensible girl! You have no more notion of propriety than your mama. Have I not just been telling you ladies in your position must behave like Caesar’s wife? What would the quizzes of Bath say if you were seen tagging along behind your father and his mistress?”

She leaned against the window, hardly listening to him. “There! They are getting into her carriage. We’ll follow them in yours. What a lovely tilbury she has, and its being green will make it easy to keep track of amid the other carriages.”

Revel had to be content with this half victory. At least it kept the foolish chit off the street. They followed the green tilbury along Milsom Street to Quiet Street, thence south to the Upper Bristol Road.

“Where can they be going? Does Mrs. Gardener live nearby?”
Tess asked.

“No, she has an apartment in Bridewell Lane.”

“It looks as if they are leaving town,”
Tess said.

“Straying gents usually take their ladybirds to a quiet inn a little out of town for ...”

She turned a knowing eye on him. “So you told me earlier.”

“... for tea,”
he said.

Her cool gray stare went through him and raised a blush. “Mama will want to know which inn they are going to. We shall keep after them.”

Revel knew, none better, that Esmée did not insist on going to an inn for tea. She had a healthy, regard for her reputation and did not entertain gentlemen in her boudoir at her apartment lest the servants gossip, but she would serve a gentleman tea at home. The direction the green tilbury was traveling suggested a little inn tucked away just outside of Keynsham. There was no point purveying all this sordid business to Tess, however.

“I know which inn they are going to,”
he said. “We’ll turn back now.”

“Which inn is it?”

“The George and Dragon. Why do you ask?”

“Because as soon as you take me home, I shall call our carriage and drive there.”

“They’ll be gone long since.”

“They will if they are only having tea,”
she replied.

Revel’s patience broke. “What is to be gained by catching them in a compromising situation? It will only embarrass all three of you.”

“It won’t embarrass
me.
Perhaps it will bring Papa to his senses. I shall bring Dulcie with me. Papa is very fond of her.”

“What of Dulcie’s feelings? What of Mrs. Gardener’s?”

“A woman like that doesn’t deserve to have feelings. I hope she is well and truly ashamed of herself, to be branded an adulteress in front of the family she is breaking up. Take me home at once, Revel.”

“You might at least give a thought to Dulcie.”

“She knows perfectly well what is going on. Let her see what men are like. It will be a salutary lesson for her before she is carried off to London.”

If Tess insisted on going to the George and Dragon—why hadn’t he named a different inn?—he must go with her and try to avoid a confrontation. Marchant and Esmée likely would have tea first, hopefully downstairs. Esmée liked to take her tea in a proper parlor. He would send her a note, tipping her a clue Marchant’s daughter was at the inn.

He kept a few carriages behind the tilbury, but close enough to see where it was going. When it slowed down just before the George and Dragon, he knew what Esmée had in mind—and braced himself for what could only be an extremely embarrassing business. Marchant and Esmée had entered the inn by the time Revel’s carriage reached it.

“
Why
don’t you just stay comfortable here while I nip inside and discover what they are doing?”
he suggested.

Tess didn’t bother to reply, but just rose and followed him out. “It isn’t a very nice inn,”
she said, flickering a disdainful glance over the crouching little stone building with Norman doorway. “I thought mistresses were treated more royally.”

“Only if they are royal mistresses.”

“You’re a nobleman. I’m surprised you brought her here, and I am surprised at Papa, too.”

“Don’t take your ill-humor out on me, miss. This is not my fault.”

“I didn’t say it was,”
she retorted, and strode angrily toward the rounded doorway.

The first people they spotted inside were Marchant and Mrs. Gardener. They were at the clerk’s desk, just signing the register. Esmée spotted Revel and arranged a triumphant smile. Then she glanced to see what new chick he had picked up, and her handsome eyes started from their sockets. She did not officially have the acquaintance of the Marchant ladies, but she was as interested in them as they were in her and certainly knew them by sight. What was Revel doing, bringing a young unmarried lady here?

Her speaking eyes told Revel what she was thinking, but no sensible course occurred to him. “Hello, Mrs. Gardener,”
he said, trying for a casual air.

Mr. Marchant glanced up from the register to see who Esmée was speaking to—and found himself being stared at by his elder daughter. “Tess!”
he exclaimed in a voice as hollow as a drum.

“Papa,”
she said coolly.

“We just stopped for tea,”
he said, with a guilty flush.

“Does one have to sign the register just to take tea?”
she asked. “You had best sign, too, Revel. You have not introduced your friend, Papa,”
she said, turning her fulminating gaze on Mrs. Gardener.

Tess had often glimpsed this beauty from a distance. This was her first opportunity to study her at firsthand, and she soon imagined a dozen flaws. The dark hair was dull, not shiny like her own. The cheeks were a little fuller than nature intended, and well rouged. She looked nearly as old as Mama, and not nearly as pretty. What did Papa see in her?

“As you must have guessed, this is my daughter,”
he said to Esmée. “I take it you already know Revel, my de
—
Mrs. Gardener.”

Esmée smiled at Tess and said, “Revel and I are old friends, Lyle.”

“Why don’t we all have tea together?”
Mr. Marchant suggested. He knew it was an appalling idea, but only wanted to put a decent face on the predicament.

“I have suddenly lost my appetite,”
his daughter said. “But don’t let us detain you from whatever it was you had in mind.”

“Tea! We are just having tea,”
Marchant said in an overly loud voice.

“I am sure Mama would have wanted me to give you her regards, if she had had any idea I would meet you here. And Dulcie, too,”
Tess said to her father.

“You must give them both my compliments, Tess. Sure you won’t join us? They serve a very tasty tea here.”

Tess looked at Mrs. Gardener. “So Revel tells me, Papa. I hope you enjoy it, but it does not appeal to me in the least. Good day.”

She stalked out of the inn, with Revel making a hasty bow to the couple before darting out after her.

“What wretched timing!”
Marchant said, trying to laugh it off. “I cannot imagine what brought Tess here at this time.”

“Nor I, but I have a fair idea what brought Revel. The lad has no reputation, but I should not have thought he would debauch a young girl like Tess.”

“Debauch her? What are you talking about? Revel is my neighbor. I have known him forever.”

“Ah, then it is to be a match. I am surprised the gossip is not circulating in town. Your daughter is to be congratulated.”

A match sounded nearly as unlikely as a seduction. If it had been Dulcie, he would have been sure she was being taken advantage of. So young, and so pretty. But Tess? No, no one would try that sort of thing with her. If she had caught the interest of such an eligible
parti
as Revel, it would be a shame to scotch her chances by a scandal. He must be more discreet.

In fact, he must drop Esmée. He was already becoming uneasy at her hints that she disliked these hole-in-the-wall assignations. What she had in mind was marriage. He had no intention of exchanging a beautiful, wealthy wife with a fine estate for a merely pretty nobody.

“All things considered, Esmée,”
he said, “perhaps we’ll just have a quick cup of tea and run along back to Bath.”

“You’re right, Lyle. We must be more discreet in future. It would be a shame for your daughter to lose out on Revel. Perhaps we could take a holiday in London.”

Mr. Marchant smiled impatiently and made noncommittal sounds as he led Esmée to a private parlor for tea.

Tess’s long strides and stiff back told Revel she was angry as he accompanied her to his carriage. It was not until they were seated within that he saw the tears trickling silently down her cheeks. A man of experience could tell much about a lady by the way she cried. He had seen ladies howling in dismay as they covered their dry eyes with a handkerchief. He knew others females, especially actresses, who could turn on the waterworks at will and simulate every symptom of grief. Some watering pots were so softhearted, they cried buckets over a sentimental novel. Of course he had seen genuine tears, too, but he had never before seen tears course down a lady’s cheeks while she sat like a statue, trying to pretend they were not there.

It was the lost and hurt look in Tess’s eyes that betrayed the depth of her feelings. Oh, she was angry, too, but mostly she was just plain miserable. A man Marchant’s age, a husband and father to boot, had no business carrying on with the muslin company. It created havoc in his family; it would bring the old fellow nothing but grief in the end, and for what? For a few hours of demeaning and uncomfortable companionship with a hussy. Ladies of pleasure were misnamed. They should be called ladies of discord. And the men who kept them were fools.

He noticed Tess turn her head away from him and unobtrusively wipe at her tears. He reached for her hand. “Do you need a shoulder to cry on?”
he asked.

She shook her head. “A handkerchief would be welcome,”
she said, and held out her hand, still without looking at him.

Revel took her chin in his fingers and turned her head to wipe at her tears. She resisted at first, but finally let him do it. “Your crying is nothing to be ashamed of, Tess,”
he said gently. Her mutinous glare told him pity was unwanted.

“I’m just so
angry
with him for hurting Mama,”
she scolded. “You can stop now, Revel. I am not usually one to spout tears on the least provocation. I don’t know what came over me. I am sure I don’t know what Papa sees in her.”

The horses moved forward, and they sat a moment in silence, each busy with private thoughts. Revel tried to think of a way to soothe her and said, “Esmée is pretty, and he believes she is available without paying the ultimate price. When she begins hinting at marriage, he’ll drop her.”

“She is not half as pretty as Mama.”

“I agree, but he has been admiring your mama’s beauty any time these twenty-odd years. A man likes a change.”

“I daresay Mama would have welcomed a few changes, too. Papa has had plenty of changes, I can tell you. I begin to think Mama ought to divorce him.”

“It is you ladies who will suffer most if they do divorce,”
he cautioned.

Tess began to simmer down as the drive continued. “I should have told him Mama is seeing Lord James. That would have smartened him up. And instead of that, I have asked you to call Lord James off. I don’t suppose you would ask your cousin to continue seeing her for a while?”
She cast a hopeful look at her companion.

“He would be more apt to do it for you, I think. James showed some interest in yourself, Tess.”

“I discouraged him! I was as stiff and dull as I could be on purpose to discourage him.”

“That tells me you have already sensed his interest. But to be frank, his interest is in your dowry.”

“I could not ask a favor of him! It would put me in his debt, and really he is not quite the thing, Revel.”

“Why, thank you, Tess.”
Her eyebrows rose in surprise, and he explained. “I see you put me in a different category from James.”

“One hears you do not seduce innocent maidens at least,”
she said. Revel’s jaw fell open. “And besides, you don’t find me attractive. Lord James does, or pretends he does. I wager it was my ten thousand he had in his eye all the while he was plying me with stale buns. So will you slip him the hint he can see Mama a few more times?”

“As I understood my job, I was only to lend you an air of impropriety,”
he reminded her. “Now you are adding a further duty—to make Mr. Marchant jealous.”

“Are you hinting an employee is usually given some recompense for added duties?’

Revel leveled a bold smile on Tess. “Actually, an employee is usually paid for performing
any
service. It is implicit in the word
employee.”

“What a flat I am!”
she exclaimed. “Turn the carriage about, Revel. We shall go back to the inn.”

He frowned in confusion, but eventually thought he had made sense of her command, and he disliked it thoroughly. “I have no intention of registering at an inn with you. Your papa would come after me with a blunderbuss, demanding marriage.”