“Imbecile!” snapped Claude. Claygate, the butler, surveyed his master solemnly, evincing no sign of emotion other than a slight downward tremor at one comer of his mouth. This involuntary twitch was the bane of Claygate’s existence, for it had caused his dismissal from a far grander establishment. “Tell your mistress that I desire her presence in the library immediately.”
“Very good, my lord,” Claygate replied with calculated insolence, his countenance unstirred by this indication that the master had failed to make his hoped-for recovery. Claude de Villiers utilized the library only for the discussion of monumental matters, and judging from all present auguries, such present concerns could only be dire. It was unfortunate for the rest of the family, but Claygate couldn’t dispel a smug, somewhat self-righteous satisfaction in the knowledge that this time the master had gone his length.
Lady Henrietta approached the library cautiously, still clutching the threadbare linen that she had been engaged in mending when news of her husband’s return reached her. She placed little reliance on his latest plans to recoup his losses; the de Villiers family, if Claude was any example, possessed abominable luck. It seemed to Lady Henrietta that one would be more prudent to cease play altogether when one’s luck was consistently bad, but, as Claude had scathingly informed her, she knew nothing of such matters. If one continued to play, one was certain to eventually come about. Lady Henrietta foresaw that they would all be ruined in the process, but long experience with her husband had taught her that such sentiments were best unvoiced.
Upon her entrance into the room, Claude turned away from the window through which he’d been staring balefully. “I’ve serious matters to discuss with you, madam. Pray be seated.”
Lady Henrietta’s heart sank to her toes. This pompous tone could only mean that her husband’s endeavors had proved unsuccessful and that he was consequently on his dignity. “Certainly.” She obediently seated herself in a comfortable chair, the upholstery of which was sadly frayed. “But first, Claude, won’t you please tell me if your horse didn’t win?”
Claude reflected bitterly that things had reached a sorry pass when even his wife knew not only that he had attended a racing meet, but that he had gambled heavily on a certain horse. He wondered if the rest of the household was equally well apprised of his financial affairs. However, Lady Henrietta was blinking at him with sincere anxiety, and Claude felt in dire need of sympathy.
“No,” he replied bitterly. “It did not. Need you even ask? My luck seems to be singularly out.”
“Whatever happened?” Lady Henrietta settled back, prepared to play confidante, and busied herself again with darning. “Someone—Motley, I believe—told me your horse was to be a sure thing.”
“Motley?” Claude was momentarily diverted from the galling sight of his wife doing servants’ chores. “What in the name of heaven would my daughter’s governess know about horse racing?”
“Motley is very practical,” his wife soothed, “and has a wide variety of interests. I suppose it’s not surprising that she should know about such things.”
“Well, this time Motley was wrong.” Claude seemed to derive satisfaction from the thought. “Neck-or-Nothing was beat out by a nose, and by some unknown nag called Rasher-of-Wind. Infamous! It couldn’t have happened, but it did. Neck-or-Nothing was oddly sluggish today, and there was nothing for it but to behave in a sporting manner and pay up.”
“No,” agreed Lady Henrietta serenely. “To do otherwise would have been unthinkable, I’m sure.”
Claude surveyed his wife suspiciously, but Lady Henrietta’s countenance was innocent. At times Claude found his wife’s well-bred impassiveness difficult to understand. “You take this news damned calmly, madam,” he snarled. “It will mean stricter economies, I fear.”
Lady Henrietta questioned whether anyone could pinch pennies more severely than she, but merely bit off her thread. “Did you lose a very great sum?”
“Hardly,” Claude retorted, “since we haven’t a great sum to lose. But I tell you frankly, I don’t know how we are to go on.”
Lady Henrietta, who had wondered that very same thing for a great many years, remained placid. “I daresay you’ll think of something, dear. You always do.”
Claude suspected his helpmeet of wifely sarcasm, but forbore to comment on such perfidy. “It is concerning that very matter that I wished to speak with you.” That he might desire the pleasure of her company occurred to neither of them.
But Lady Henrietta uncharacteristically interrupted him in midspeech. “Claude?” she inquired, rethreading her needle. “Don’t you think it might be wise to apply to Emile? I’m sure he’d render assistance, were he to be made aware of the straits we’re in. After all, Maddy is his niece.”
“Emile!” Claude pounded an inoffensive table with a vigor that made even Lady Henrietta start. “Were I to die in debtors’ prison, I wouldn’t apply to Emile!”
“I do hope it won’t come to that!” Lady Henrietta snapped, then withdrew again behind her unruffled shell. “I only thought that, being your brother, he might care to know how things are with you.”
“That is one notion that you may put straight out of your head! And since we speak of my delightful family, I must tell you that I visited with Letty today.” Claude seemed to consider that this admission might provoke his wife to a further outbreak of temper, but Lady Henrietta refrained.
“Indeed?” she inquired. Claude’s sister inspired her with a great deal less enthusiasm than did Emile. Letty Jellicoe was a frivolous creature, with no thought beyond that of her own comfort in her empty head. “What prompted you to such conciliatory action? I thought you had not forgiven her for Emile’s decision to make her son his heir.”
This bald statement did little to soothe Claude’s exacerbated temper, for the loss of his brother’s considerable fortune made him seethe with rage, particularly since Letty’s son had inherited the Jellicoe wealth and had little need of Emile’s, but Claude needed his wife’s compliance in his new plan for the reinstatement of their resources. He tempered his wrath. “That sniveling whelp! It’s a great pity young Kenelm has taken Emile’s fancy to so great a degree. Perhaps something may yet be done to remedy the situation.”
Lady Henrietta looked at her husband’s unpleasant smile and dropped her mending. “Claude! You don’t mean to—”
“Nothing of the sort!” Claude had, in fact, toyed with the notion of forcibly disposing of his inconvenient nephew. “I only meant that fortune might smile on us and young Kenelm so displease Emile that he finds himself dispossessed in turn. Which, since Emile has no offspring, would leave only me.” He smiled at his wife’s expression. “Don’t fear, my scheme is a great deal better than that.” Having masterfully whetted her curiosity, he was at a loss to proceed.
“What is this plan of yours?” Lady Henrietta inquired helpfully. Claude took an abrupt turn around the room.
“Where’s Maddy?” he demanded with studied nonchalance. “What I have to say is also for her to hear.” His wife’s suddenly watchful air made him feel that his collar was a great deal too tight.
“As to her whereabouts, I couldn’t say,” Lady Henrietta replied in a gentle voice that effectively masked her apprehension. When Claude was in this humor, one could not predict what he might do. “I believe she walked to the village to visit her old nurse, who is ill. But pray, enlighten me: just what part does Maddy play in these schemes of yours?”
“It’s like her to be roaming the countryside unaccompanied!” Claude took refuge in indignation. “Your daughter could easily be taken for a tinker’s wench, madam! And in spite of that expensive schooling Emile provided for her. Had she been more conciliating, he might have done a great deal more for her—but there it is. I’m forced to provide for her myself, and a deuced problem it’s been. But I fancy I’ve hit upon the very solution.”
Lady Henrietta refrained from pointing out that he had rendered a certain assistance in the accomplishment of Maddy’s birth. “And what might that be?”
“Letty is going to bring her out,” Claude announced triumphantly. Lady Henrietta blinked several times, speechless. “She’ll take her in hand, teach her how to go on, and she’ll snap up a rich husband in no time at all.”
“But the expense!” Lady Henrietta protested faintly. “We are already reduced to near-penury.”
“We’ve enough for that,” Claude interjected, hoping fervently that his wife wouldn’t discover the absence of her pearls until some far-distant time. “Maddy’s a deuced taking little thing. We can trust her to make a good match.”
Lady Henrietta regarded him suspiciously. “A rich match, you mean. Claude, you can’t have thought: Maddy has no portion! You expect her to make a brilliant match when we haven’t a feather to fly with ourselves!”
“Don’t put yourself in a taking!” Claude retorted. “Our daughter is of unexceptionable birth, and Letty will do her utmost to promote a match. It won’t be surprising if Maddy attracts the attention of a wealthy gentleman, and all our troubles thereby solved.”
Lady Henrietta seriously doubted that any gentleman’s ardor would be sufficient to withstand the shock of Maddy’s lack of fortune, no matter how charming the young lady unquestionably was; but other considerations also exercised her mind. If Maddy remained isolated in the country, she would either dwindle into an old maid or wed some ham-handed red-faced country squire. However, Lady Henrietta could hardly consider Letty Jellicoe a fit chaperon for a young and impressionable girl. But Maddy possessed a fair amount of common sense, and she deserved this chance to enjoy the pleasures of Society.
Claude considered his wife’s silence encouraging and pressed his point. “Letty is willing to bear a large portion of the expense,” he added, not thinking it necessary to explain Lefty’s generosity as a last-ditch effort to avoid the scandal that her brother’s impecuniousness must cause. “Just consider, she’s bringing her own girl out, too. Maddy won’t be any bother at all.”
“And what if Maddy doesn’t oblige you?” Lady Henrietta inquired. “What if she instead falls in love with some penniless younger son?”
This was striking very near home indeed, for Lady Henrietta had done that very thing, and Claude was hard pressed to maintain his smiling affability. “Put those fears to rest,” he advised. “Maddy is a good, obedient girl. She’d not be so thoughtless as to whistle a fortune down the wind.”
Lady Henrietta was a good deal better acquainted with their daughter than was Claude, and thought fleetingly of the despairing reports she’d received from Maddy’s select school. But she thought, too, of an unknown gentleman who might possibly appreciate her daughter’s worth. Long years with a gambler had left their mark on her. “It utterly sinks my spirits to lose her,” Lady Henrietta murmured doubtfully, “but I’m persuaded you are right. Maddy must go to London.”
Claude repressed a triumphant grin.
Chapter Two
“This,” said Madeleine de Villiers, “is the
most
abominable fix!” The antiquated equipage utilized to carry them to their destination lurched wildly and she struggled to maintain both her ladylike posture and her seat. “I do think it very hard that Papa should assign
me
the task of repairing the family fortunes.”
Her companion, an unprepossessing lady of thirty-odd years, wore an expression of severe disapproval. “Much as I deplore your father’s addiction to gaming-hells,” she replied, “his behavior is unexceptionable in comparison with your own. Your attitude is altogether displeasing, Maddy. If you behave in this unbecoming fashion, all your parents’ plans must come to naught.”
Maddy sighed. Her anticipation of a London season, the dream of every young girl of genteel birth, was somewhat marred by the deception she must practice; and Motley promised to be an uncompromising chaperon. Maddy stole a glance at her companion, and wondered if there was any way at all out of her dilemma. She did not imagine that her aunt would permit any but the most proper behavior, and to one accustomed to almost unlimited freedom, this was a daunting prospect.
It seemed only yesterday that she had returned from a leisurely stroll to find that her peaceful existence had been abruptly turned upside down, but in fact several weeks, filled with frantic preparations for her journey, had elapsed. Maddy’s protests had gone unheeded. Her reluctance to embark upon a course that might seem the crassest fortune-hunting had been termed ingratitude; and her declaration that she had no wish to wed for anything but love only earned her a severe lecture on the assumption of missish airs. Maddy almost wished that it had been within her power to refuse her aunt’s generous invitation.
Motley was not unaware of the beseeching glance that had been cast at her, but her stem expression did not relent. She knew, far better than Maddy, how desperate this gamble was, and how slim their chances of winning the hand. Only a gamester like Claude de Villiers could have hit upon such a ploy. Initially, they ran little risk; Claude was thought to be almost as well heeled as his hermetic brother Emile; but Maddy would have to marry quickly or the truth would become known. It would not be wonderful if Maddy attracted the interest of a wealthy gentleman, one who wouldn’t cavil at settling the momentous de Villiers debts, yet Motley had nightmare visions of the various things that might go wrong.
“Pray don’t be angry with me,” Maddy cajoled. “I know I behaved badly, but can’t we speak frankly between ourselves? You know I depend upon you to tell me exactly what I must do. I shall not wash my dirty linen in public, you know.”
Motley winced, and experienced gratitude that her charge was so self-absorbed that she had not questioned her retiring governess’s knowledge of the rules governing Polite Society. “Where
do
you learn such unsuitable phrases?” she inquired. “Ladies do not speak frankly, child. Should you utter one of your unquestionably vulgar expressions in the wrong company, you will be thought shockingly forward—if not worse.”
“It utterly sinks my spirits,” Maddy mourned. “Not only must I attract a gentleman of fortune when I have none of my own, but I must also become a pattern-card of respectability. I find it a quelling prospect. I suspect I may also find it a dead bore.”