Almost - Almost A Bride Part 21

Arabella rose immediately and went over to join them. "Good afternoon, Lady Jersey. Would you join us by the fire?" She gestured to the group she had left.

Jack saw with a slight sinking feeling that his wife's tawny eyes had those little gold flickers in their depths that always denoted trouble.

Lady Jersey raised her quizzing gla.s.s and looked across to the group of women. She let the gla.s.s drop and said, "No, I don't think I care to, Lady Arabella. I find the company here most congenial."

"Indeed," Arabella said with a frozen smile. "My husband was about to suggest a game of piquet with his highness. Perhaps you would care to observe their game." She turned a knowing smile on the prince. He would hate such a suggestion. "I'm sure Lady Jersey will bring you luck, sir."

The prince looked immediately put out. The suggestion that he might need luck in a game of skill piqued his pride, particularly with an opponent like the duke, whose skill was generally considered to be unparalleled. Much as he relished his mistress's company away from the card table, he didn't want her observing his play. As Arabella had known, it didn't occur to him to refuse the rarely offered prospect of a game with St. Jules.

"Luck, ma'am? Why, piquet is a game of skill. I need no luck." He gave a bl.u.s.tering laugh and linked his arm through Jack's. "Come, Duke, I accept the challenge." He offered his mistress a bow of farewell. "Forgive me, dear ma'am. The cards call."

Lady Jersey watched him barrel out of the salon, her eyes cold and hard, a thin smile fixed to her lips. She was left for an awkward moment the only woman among a group of puzzled Frenchmen. She turned towards Arabella, who had returned to the fireside beside the princess. Caroline was sipping tea, chattering and laughing, for once very much at her ease.

Her smile faltered, however, when Lady Jersey approached the fire. But the princess was not on this occasion Lady Jersey's quarry.

She gave Arabella a smile of pure malice as she said, "I must take my leave, ma'am. I am engaged to join Lady Worth at a card party this evening." She snapped open her fan. "It is to be hoped she doesn't lose too heavily yet again. I understand she relies substantially on her . . ."

Painted eyebrows lifted in a mocking question mark. "Her friends . . . her most particular friends . . . to help her with her difficulties. Worth, I believe, is less accommodating than . . ." She waved her fan vaguely in the direction of the door. "Perhaps he has less reason to be so. Good afternoon, your highness." She dipped a curtsy to the princess, offered a nod to the remainder of the group, and sailed from the room.

Arabella showed none of her chagrin. She poured more tea and asked the princess whether she would like to see her orchids.

With expeditious proficiency Jack lost a rubber of piquet to the Prince of Wales, while plying his opponent with ample gla.s.ses of fine claret. He threw his last discards on the table, paid his debts, and bade his prince, now the picture of bonhomie, a pleasant good evening. Then he went upstairs to his wife.

Arabella was dressing for the evening, Becky putting the final touches to her hair, delicately inserting a pearl fillet. Jack waited for the operation to be completed before he said, "Whom are you going to dazzle this evening, my dear?"

Arabella was on edge, Lady Jersey's insinuations playing over and over in her head. It was hard enough accepting the fact of Jack's mistress with apparent equanimity, without enduring insults from the queen of mistresses. "I thought we were dining at home and then going to the play," she said sharply. "Of course, if you have something better to do, I'm sure George or Fox will escort me."

"I'm sure they would," he agreed affably enough, lounging, arms folded, against the door frame. "What play?"

"The School for Scandal." She turned on the dresser stool, heedless of Becky's little squeak of protest as a furled curl sprang free of its papers. "I understand it's a satire of the Devonshire House set. The d.u.c.h.ess of Devonshire is supposed to be the model for Lady Teazle. I didn't see it during my first Season." She turned back to the mirror, adding aridly, "I doubt I was considered sophisticated enough."

"The satirical characterizations are probably less obvious now," Jack observed, still watching her with narrowed eyes. "The play's almost twenty years old, after all."

"A different time," she said, leaning into the mirror to examine her face. "Should I wear rouge, do you think?" Lady Worth's delicately painted complexion filled her vision.

"Not if pleasing your husband figures anywhere in your list of imperatives," he said. "Mmm." Arabella considered this. "But I look rather pale. I've noticed how others with the slightest touch of rouge can give the impression of a glow to the skin. Lady Jersey, for instance. She was quite radiant this afternoon. . . . That will do, Becky. Thank you. Go to your supper now, and there's no need to wait up for me tonight."Becky, who had maintained a steadfast and well-learned silence throughout this exchange between her employers, set down curlers and brushes, curtsied, and left the bedchamber. Jack frowned. "Tell me, wife of mine, what has made you so angry?""Angry? Why would you think that?" She touched a hare's foot to her cheeks. "The glitter in your eye." He lifted the lid of the jewel casket and let his fingers trawl through it. The glitter was suspiciously akin to tears, Arabella knew. She tried a light laugh and plied the hare's foot again. "Oh, just something Lady Jersey said.""What was that?" He selected a pearl pendant and held it up to the light. "Just women's talk," she said, twisting an errant curl back into place. He reached over her shoulders with the pendant. One hand brushed across the swell of her breast. "Don't let her trouble you, Arabella. She has a vicious tongue.""I am aware," Arabella said curtly, bending her head as he fastened the gold chain. "Shall we go down to dinner?"

Chapter 17.

Jack entered the small pavilion at Ranelagh Gardens, his sharp gaze roaming the crowd gathered around the card tables. It was a soft spring night and the sounds of a string quartet wafted on the breeze from the concert pavilion. People strolled the garden paths, lit with sconced torches, and occasionally a shriek of laughter would rise from behind strategically planted shrubbery. The gardens were notorious playgrounds for the indiscreet.

Jack saw his quarry playing quinze at a table at the far side of the pavilion and made his way without apparent purpose towards her. Lady Worth looked up from her cards with a bright smile.

"Jack, I wondered if you would be here tonight."

"You need wonder no more, my dear," he said carelessly, flipping open his snuffbox. "I received your summons and hastened to obey." A smile flickered on his mouth but it was curiously absent from his steady gaze. He took a pinch of snuff.

"Is your charming wife here this evening?" Lilly inquired, laying down a card with a little moue of dismay as she lost her wager.

"I believe so," he said. "She came with her own party."

Lilly's smile didn't falter. "The d.u.c.h.ess has taken the Season by storm. There's not an occasion she doesn't grace with her presence." She cast in her cards and rose from the table, tucking her hand into the duke's arm. "Walk a little with me, Jack."

He made no objection and they walked out into the gardens. Lilly fanned herself gently as they strolled towards the concert pavilion. Jack said nothing. Lilly would come to the point in her own good time. And in a very few minutes she did.

"You never come to see me anymore, Jack."

"My dear, I called upon you just the day before yesterday."

"Yes, but you know that's not what I meant," she responded with a sad smile. "I do not wish to see you only in company. Why can things not be as they were?"

"My dear, I have explained the situation," he said, his voice low, his tone gentle. "In friendship and in remembrance of what we've shared, I will help you in whatever way you need, but we can no longer be lovers." Even as he spoke his eyes swept the area around them, looking for Arabella.

"Why such scruples?" she demanded on an angry little laugh. "Marriage has turned you into a uxorious husband. It's most unfashionable, I should warn you." She stopped on the path, forcing him to stop with her. She turned sideways. Her head barely reached his shoulder, so she had to look up at him, her beautiful eyes reflecting the starlight.

He shrugged. "Maybe so, but I've never much cared for the whims of fashion, as you should know, Lilly." He began to walk again. "Let us not quarrel. How much do you need tonight?"

"Oh, you're being horrid," she said. "You make it sound as if I only seek out your company when I need a little a.s.sistance with my debts."

He glanced at her as he continued to walk, the look in his eyes unreadable.

She let the subject die. She did indeed need money from him tonight and nothing would be gained by antagonizing him. "I wonder what your wife is doing?" she mused.

Knowing Arabella, she would either be offering subtle insults to Frances Villiers, Lady Jersey, or offering sympathy and succor to some aristocratic French refugee, Jack reflected wryly. He said only, "I have no idea."

Lilly looked up at him again, her gaze now sharp. "And no interest, Jack?"

His face was suddenly blank, his eyes without expression. "Do you care to listen to the concert, ma'am?"

"Oh, Jack, don't pretend you don't know what I mean," Lilly scolded unwisely. "You know perfectly well your wife's support for the princess and her deliberate insults to Frances can do neither of you any good. Frances has simply to whisper in the prince's ear and he'll never come to Cavendish Square again. You'll lose any hope of royal patronage . . . Frances holds every princely favor in her own hands. Your dear little wife stands not a chance against Lady Jersey's goliath."

Jack paused under a flaring torch and said with deceptive amiability, "My dear Lilly, I do believe I told you once before that I will not discuss my wife . . . with you, or with anyone."

Lilly touched his silk-suited arm with her fan. "Don't be ridiculous, Jack. Your wife and her support of the princess is the foremost topic of conversation in every house in Town."

"Not when I am present," he stated in the same amiable tone. "Forgive me, Lilly, if I say that I have no wish to continue this conversation. Let's get down to business. How can I be of a.s.sistance?"

Lilly struggled with her annoyance. She had rarely been on the receiving end of one of Jack's snubs and it was a most unpleasant sensation. But in the end there was nothing for it but to swallow her chagrin. She sighed, laying an elegantly gloved hand on his sleeve. "Such a nuisance, Jack. Last summer I had to p.a.w.n the Worth tiara. I had a copy made but Worth wants to send the set to be cleaned, and of course . . ."

"Of course," he agreed. "Why would you do something so foolish, Lilly?"

She flushed. "I had no choice. You were not in Town for three months."

He shook his head. "That is certainly true. I'll redeem the tiara if you give me the note."

She reached into the tiny silk purse that hung from her wrist and took out a scrunched piece of paper. "Here." She handed it to him with lowered eyes. He glanced at the figure, raised his eyebrows, and tucked it inside his coat.

"Ah, my lord duke, I didn't realize you were coming to Ranelagh this evening." Arabella's voice chimed as she appeared at the junction of a side path on the arm of Lord Morpeth. "You should have said. We could have been in the same party." Her gaze embraced her husband's companion. "Lady Worth . . . such a pleasant evening."

"Yes, indeed, Lady Arabella," the countess returned the greeting, with a sketched curtsy in the direction of Arabella's companion. "Lord Morpeth."

"My lady Worth." He bowed. "Fortescu." He bowed again.

Jack acknowledged the greeting and offered his snuffbox. His eyes rested upon his wife's creamy countenance; the tawny eyes were almost pure gold under the sconces. "I trust you're amusing yourself, my love."

"Certainly, sir. And you too, I see." She flicked a smile in Lady Worth's direction.

"I haven't seen Lady Jersey here this evening," Lilly said. She laughed lightly. "Perhaps she knew you would be here, ma'am."

"I doubt that would affect the countess's plans," Arabella said coolly. "His highness has chosen not to grace Ranelagh with his presence this evening. I daresay that would explain her ladyship's absence."

Lord Morpeth cast a sympathetic glance in the direction of the duke of St. Jules, who appeared unmoved.

Lady Worth drew a little closer to the d.u.c.h.ess and said confidentially, "My dear lady Arabella, your husband and I were saying that you should be a little more careful how you annoy Frances Villiers. She has so much influence with the prince, and a mere word from her would ensure that both you and your husband would be considered beyond the pale. You should consider Jack's position if not your own. He and the prince have been friends for many years. We were saying that it would be such a pity for that to be destroyed by the ill-conceived vendetta of someone who perhaps doesn't yet fully realize all the nuances of Society."

For a moment Arabella couldn't see straight. The woman and Jack were discussing her conduct. For all the world as if she was some naive chit who didn't know her elbow from her ankle.

She blinked once, then said coolly, "I am touched by your concern, ma'am." She turned to her escort. "We are going to watch the fireworks, is that not so, Lord Morpeth?"

"Yes, indeed, ma'am." His lordship looked acutely uncomfortable. The duke of St. Jules had not moved a muscle. His countenance was calm and affable. But only a fool would mistake the cool surface for the reality.

The duke bowed to his wife as she went off on the arm of Lord Morpeth.

Lilly glanced up at him. "Oh dear, I didn't mean to upset your wife," she denied slyly, laying her hand once more upon his sleeve. "Believe me, that was not my intention, Jack. But really you must be careful. Frances has complete control of the prince's patronage. She has him in her pocket. She can make or break a man with a mere word."

Jack gently removed her hand from his sleeve. "I find it disheartening, Lilly, that you know me so little you would think that would matter to me one iota."

"You wouldn't care if your wife ruins you?" She was incredulous.

He smiled and for once broke his rule. "My wife has no more care for the sanctions of Society than I do, my dear. She will follow her conscience without regard for the consequences. I admire that in her." He gave her his arm again. "Allow me to return you to your party."

Arabella watched the fireworks display with her eyes but she absorbed little of its magnificence. For a moment she was unaware of the man and woman who had come up beside her. Only when the man said for the second time, "Your grace, may I present Vicomtesse DuLac?" did she come out of her angry reverie.

She turned with an automatic smile. "Oh, forgive me, Monsigneur de Besenval, I was absorbed in the fireworks." She held out a hand to the lady accompanying him. "Vicomtesse DuLac, enchantee."

The lady took the hand with a curtsy and said with a pretty accent, "I am delighted to make your acquaintance, your grace."

"The vicomtesse is but newly arrived in London," de Besenval explained. "She was well acquainted with the comtesse de Villefranche."

Arabella's heart jumped. "My husband's sister," she said, taking the other woman's arm. "Let us walk a little, the noise of the fireworks is quite deafening."

"But of course, your grace."

Arabella nudged Lord Morpeth, who was so rapt in the pyrotechnic display he hadn't noticed his companion's distraction. "Morpeth, I am just going to talk with the vicomtesse. Will you wait here for me?"

"But of course, dear lady, take your time," he said in his customary agreeable fashion, his gaze instantly shifting back to the entertainment.

Arabella, arm in arm with the Frenchwoman, directed their steps to a small pavilion that was for the moment deserted. "We should be able to hear ourselves think in here," she said, sitting on the stone bench and patting the s.p.a.ce beside her.

The vicomtesse sat down, arranging her rather voluminous skirts. For a moment Arabella envied her the yards of damask and velvet. The stone of the bench struck cold against her own thinly protected rear. She wasted no time on preamble, asking swiftly, "Do you know anything of the comtesse, madame?"

The woman sighed. "I know for sure only that she was arrested and taken to the prison of La Force. She was there during . . ." She shuddered, struggling for words. "During that dreadful night . . . the night of the ma.s.sacres. The guards slew all their prisoners."

"All of them? None escaped?"

The woman shook her head. "None that I know of, madame. I escaped into Austria two nights later. We remained in Vienna until a week ago, when we sailed for England."

"Do you know my husband?" Arabella caught herself looking over her shoulder. She was doing nothing wrong by talking to this friend of Jack's sister, but she couldn't help hoping that Jack would not see her.

"No, unfortunately I never had the pleasure," the vicomtesse said. "My husband preferred the country to Court life and we were rarely at Versailles. Our visits never coincided with the duke's. But I know that he worked tirelessly to help our friends escape the Terror." She dabbed her eyes with a sc.r.a.p of lace. "It is such a tragedy that he, who saved so many, should have been unable to save his sister."

"Yes," Arabella murmured, more to herself than her companion. Could that explain the darkness in him? The dreadful knowledge that he had failed to rescue his sister?

Monsigneur de Besenval, waiting discreetly at the entrance to the pavilion, coughed and cleared his throat. "Forgive the interruption, your grace, but madame la vicomtesse is bidden to take supper in the concert pavilion with the party of the comte de Vaudreuil."

Arabella arose from the cold stone with alacrity. "Yes, of course. Don't let me keep you. Thank you so much, madame, for talking to me. I trust I may call upon you. Do you stay with the Vaudreuils?"

"Yes, they are being most kind," the vicomtesse said, taking Arabella's extended hand. "Please, I should very much like to talk with you again."

"Allow me to return you to your escort, your grace," the monsigneur said, proffering an arm to each lady. Arabella accepted his escort and within a few minutes was once more at Lord Morpeth's side.

The fireworks had lost their appeal. Too much had happened this evening and she wanted to be alone to mull it all over. She touched Morpeth's arm. "I have the headache, sir. Will you escort me to my boat?"

"Certainly, ma'am, if you wish it," he responded. "But would you not prefer it if I took you to Jack? I saw him a few minutes ago in Lady Belmont's box."

"No, thank you," she said firmly. "I would not disturb my husband's pleasure for the world. If you don't mind . . ."

His lordship could only express his willingness. "Allow me to escort you to Cavendish Square, ma'am."

"No, indeed not," Arabella said with a strength that gave the lie to the headache. "Boatman John is waiting, and the carriage will be on the north bank. I shall be in good hands."

Morpeth demurred for the length of time it took them to reach the riverbank, and then reluctantly relinquished the adamant d.u.c.h.ess into the charge of Jack's boatman. "I'll inform Jack of your indisposition, ma'am," he said.

"No, please don't," she said, settling onto the cushioned bench, accepting a lap rug from the boatman. "I don't want him to cut short his evening." She smiled and raised a hand in farewell as the oarsmen pulled the skiff strongly into mid-stream.

Jack glanced up from his cards as Lord Morpeth wandered into the pavilion. His lordship, catching his eye, came over to the table. "What are the stakes, Jack?"

"Twenty guineas," Jack replied, discarding a card.