The Indian Maiden (18 page)

He tucked her arm firmly beneath his and then signaled to the others to follow. “It’s only a few streets from here. We’ll have a look in, and then we’ll have a leisurely stroll back before the sun gets too high. You didn’t bring a sunshade,” he said critically. “Now that is a far worse sin in the eyes of the
ton
than inventing tales to terrify their impressionable young people with. We’re off to Humphry’s,” he paused to tell Lady Mary as she approached with a question apparent in her eye, “to show Faith that there are even more infamous folk in London than herself.”

“Oh yes, what a splendid idea,” Lady Mary cried. “It’s the very thing.”

Faith wondered whether Lord Deal was going to lead her to someplace like Newgate Prison, which she’d read about in all the tour books before she’d even set foot upon the ship, but when she asked him that, he laughed so heartily that she flushed.

“Oh no,” he answered after a pause in which he admired the way the pink tint mounted high along her cheekbones, before he felt ashamed of himself for putting that beautiful but doubtless painful cosmetic there, “not Newgate. This is a gallery of rogues far worse than that.” But he intoned this last so mysteriously she knew he was jesting.

Even Faith knew when they approached their goal, for there were a few passersby paused in front of one shop, hands in pockets, or clasped behind backs, or in some cases lifting quizzing glass to the eye to better study all the bright prints on display in the huge bow window. Later in the afternoon, Lord Deal knew, there’d be a larger crowd, but he had counted on the fact that the day was too young for there to be very many of the
ton
collected on the sidewalk perusing the latest crop of caricatures offered for sale in the window.

There were at least two dozen on display, and though he knew some of them would be rude, or crude, and possibly unfit for a young female’s inspection, he also knew there were few young females who somehow didn’t get a glimpse at most of them anyway. Still, he didn’t plan to give Faith enough time to inspect them in detail, it would be enough that she saw how many famous folk were
vilified
in them, and how others of them were persons she’d never heard of, nor would ever hear of again, though their names current
l
y enjoyed a passing notoriety in London and its environs.

He felt it would be salutary for her to see just how fleeting both fame and infamy were in the fashionable world. Because the Bourbon, Bonaparte, and Hanoverian gentlemen and each of their respective mistresses were by no means the only ones portrayed as fops and fools, and sold, gaily colored, for a few pence. The list of those ridiculed changed often and was a daily source of amusement to the public and a reliable register of the political mood of the nation, as well as a true chronicler of the gossip of the
ton.

The quartet drew near the window, and soon Faith was entranced by a vivid picture of the Regent at his play, and was so shocked and yet enormously titillated that she could scarcely tear her eyes from the depiction of his excesses. Will was grinning at a political cartoon, and Lord Deal was only watching Faith with vast amusement, and so when Lady Mary gasped, Faith was not the only one to pay no attention to her. But then, when Lord Deal said abruptly, “Come Faith, we must go,” she ignored him. When he tugged at her arm, she looked up at him in very real annoyance at the tone of his voice and his imperious treatment of her as well as at the way he interrupted her contemplation of the picture.

“Really,” she complained, “you dragged me all the way here
...
”

But then she saw his expression and knew there was something very much amiss. His tanned face seemed more yellowed than golden now and white lines were visible beside his tightly compressed mouth, though it seemed his eyes blazed. She looked quickly to Mary, but Mary was staring horrified, gloved hand to mouth, at a caricature to the left side of the window, even as Will attempted to guide her away. And then of course, Faith saw it.

An immediate silence fell even as her gaze fell upon the picture, though at that moment Faith would not have been able to hear anything above the singing of her blood in her ears, just as she could not feel Lord Deal’s grip loosen on her arm. It was only after a long moment’s shame that would last the rest of her life, if only in her nightmares, that she could at last admit she could hear him and the world again.

“Faith,” he said hesitantly. “Faith,” he repeated in sorrow, “I am so sorry. I did not know, I swear it. Come away. Come away now.”

There was no further word said as he called a hackney coach. But after he helped Faith into it, he had brief, low words with Will before he leaned into the coach and said very simply, “I’ll follow soon. Wait for me. I must speak with you.” And no one asked to whom he spoke, for no one spoke again until the hackney reached the Duke and Duchess of Marchbanks’ townhouse once again.

For, Faith thought on a repressed, choked laugh that had nothing to do with humor, what was there to say, after all? She could not even complain that it was a poor likeness. Of course, the naked breasts had been absurdly exaggerated—she was well, but not quite so blatantly, endowed. And she’d never worn the feathered headdresses that had been delivered to her, or even owned a breechclout, and certainly she would not have advanced upon Methley, the duke, Lord Deal, or any of the other gentlemen who’d been at Marchbanks with a wicked carving knife. And even if she had, they would not have quivered and cowered away from her as they did in the caricature, but then, it was titled, “The Wild Indian Takes Marchbanks by Storming It,” so she supposed it held to its own mad rationale. Oh, Faith sighed, now, she would go home now, it was enough.

“But you cannot run now,” Lord Deal told her only a little while later as he paced in front of her in the morning room.

There were some small things to be grateful for, Faith thought as she watched him rove the room, as a drowning woman might be relieved that it was warm and not cold waters she perished in. For the duchess hadn’t been home when she’d returned to the house, and now both Lady Mary and Will had flown in the face of convention and let Lord Deal speak with her alone. But then, she sighed, it might well also be that the pair, both more astute than she (as who, she corrected herself, was not?), had decided that it was impossible to sully her reputation any further and so knew that it hardly mattered if she were left alone with Lord Deal or a gang of riotously drunken convicts at this point. Her sigh was not unnoticed and the gentleman ceased his agitated pacing and spoke sharply to her.

“Oh, I imagine you can go home, there’s no law against it, there are ships leaving weekly. Of course, you can go home. But I should think that if you ever want to be able to live comfortably with yourself, why then, you cannot. Of course,” he said caustically, coming to a halt in front of her, “it may be that things like honor and self-respect are not important to young females, I could scarcely be expected to know that, and it may also be that only we here in Britain place such a high premium of those qualities for either males or females.”

“You know that is not so!” she cried, stung from wilting with sorrow in her chair to shoot up to her feet in fury.

“Of course I do,” he said calmly, looking down at her and smiling, “but I thought I would remind you of it. I’ve found that shame and self-pity and misery are all very well in their place, but if you ever want to leave that dismal place, the first step is to get angry enough to move on. No doubt, in time you’d discover that for yourself—I did, in my turn. But I don’t believe you have that time to waste now, and as I’ve traveled the same road you’re on, it’s only fair for me to draw you a map of it.

“Faith,” he said seriously, taking her two hands in his and gazing down at her, all humor gone from his face, “I suffered a great deal once because of other people’s unkindness. It took me a long while to understand that I had to make my own happiness, and disregard the rest. Tongues will wag and tales will be carried for so long as there is idleness, cruelty, and boredom in the world, and I don’t doubt that will be as near to forever as one can get. Likely someone spread nasty rumors about the saints in their day and probably, in a future so far ahead that we cannot conceive of it, gossip will still maintain the status of high art in certain circles. It will always be with us. I believe it goes with the human condition, like head colds or fleas.”

When she grinned reluctantly, he smiled back at her and said soothingly, “It scarcely mattered if you’d been circumspect or not, you know. There would have been talk in any event. You just made it a bit louder and increased its volume in other ways. But no one with any sense will heed it for long, if you are not heedless yourself in future. After all,” he mused, freeing one hand to raise it and gently trace the contours along the top of her cheekbone, “it’s an obvious lie. Whoever heard of an Indian with freckles?”

She stared into his long hazel eyes and whatever she imagined she saw there robbed his words of all their comfort and she drew back sharply.

“Indeed,” she said brusquely, “I wondered at the name myself.
I
should have thought they’d call me a barbarian or a savage instead.”

“Oh,” he said casually, though he looked at her very keenly, “but they already have a barbarian, the poor lady is a Russian princess who made the mistake of befriending a young lording of ours. And as for savage, they have no less than two of those. When one, a young woman from Yorkshire, wed and settled into obscurity, they appointed another, some benighted young chit from the dales whose crime, like her predecessor’s, was that she had more money than documented ancestry.

“Oh yes, there are a quantity of amusing names. We have a dozen ‘Naughty Sir Thises,’ and a score of ‘Dirty Lady Thats,’ as well as Popes and Priests, and one of my associates rejoices in the name Vicar simply because he’s known for having been extremely ungodly in his youth. There’s a Black Duke of the fairest complexion, whose recent history has been even fairer, though he’ll never shake the name, even as I shall be a Viking forever, though no ancestor of mine I know of ever did anything but run madly for cover the instant he spied the long boats coming. So too, Wild Indian in time can come to signify nothing. But why are you so very afraid of me?” he asked in exactly the same tone of voice that he’d used for all his reasonable discourse.

That was why it took her a space of a few blinks to understand the question, and even then, she could not frame an immediate coherent reply.

“You are, you know,” he persisted softly, “and it’s far more important, to me at least, than this matter of foolish names idle fools invent. I’ve thought about it and can’t believe it’s merely a question of propriety because I attempted to make love to you once, and looked as though I meant to more often than that. You ought to be used to reading such desires in a gentleman’s eye. And although a young woman may worry about a gentleman’s overstepping the bounds, in those cases, I’ve found she’s either apt to avoid him altogether, or to let him know in no uncertain terms that his next embrace will be tantamount to a declaration. But you make it a point to tell everyone you want no romantic ties, and until now you’ve made it clear you don’t give a fig for society’s conventions. So you see, if it’s neither your heart or your reputation you fear I’ll harm, your behavior’s rather puzzling, not to say outright insulting to me.

“At first I thought it was because I was English, but I’ve come to know you better and you’re never so provincial. As it’s not a matter of nationality, or politics, is it my appearance? Am I repulsive? But then surely someone, sometime, would have been honest enough to be brutally frank with me. To be honest with you, it’s never been a problem to me before.

“I don’t believe I’m vainer than most fellows,” he said, looking at her thoughtfully, “but I don’t think it’s my personality either, for I believe you enjoy my company as much as I do yours, and that is to say, quite a lot. And yet, even with all this, when I come close enough—ah there, you see?—you step away. And that look, oh that expression you put on, Faith. What is it? Can you enlighten me? I cannot be so fearsome a fellow or I’d send children screaming down the street when they caught sight of me.”

“You’re not, no, no, absolutely not,” she stammered, “and I don’t fear you, not at all,” she lied, knowing only when he came closer to her and carefully placed his hands upon her and gazed at her searchingly before his lips slowly covered over her own, that it was really no lie. For then, even as she returned his kiss, she understood, in the moment that was given to her before the fear grew too strong to ignore, that it was true that it was never him that she feared. It was only herself.

He released her immediately, dropping his arms and lifting his head the moment that he felt her mouth tense and her body stiffen against his. But the look in his eyes was so sympathetic, there was such sorrow and kindness and reflective, pitying consideration apparent in his grave, handsome face that she could not bear it. It horrified her far more than passion ever had done. And so at last it did send her running from the room, just like a child, just as though he were every bit as fearsome as he jested that he might be.

Long after Lord Deal had left the Boltons’ townhouse, long after he’d stood arrested and amazed as Faith had fled from him, and after Will had gone with him to luncheon at his club as his guest, the duchess returned and received the Earl of Methley as her own, only invited guest. Lady Mary was not asked to join them, as neither was Miss Hamilton, but if the earl found this singular, he gave no hint of it when his hostess received him in private.