Anne Barbour (21 page)

“No, of course not,” replied Chloe stiffly. “I have a few things to attend to myself.”

With a petulant rustle of skirts she turned on her heel and stalked from the room.

Hester gazed for a few moments at the closed door, and smiled.

* * * *

Dinner that evening was a fairly subdued affair. Lady Bracken did not dine with them that evening. Lady Lavinia seemed immersed in thought, and Chloe toyed listlessly with her food. It was thus left to Thorne and Hester to maintain a desultory conversation.

“Did I hear you say something about your giving a lecture soon?” Thorne asked Hester.

“Yes, indeed. I have been invited to speak to a gathering of ladies in Seven Dials. The lecture is sponsored by Sir Gerard Welles and will be held at the Blue Boar Tavern.”

Thorne frowned.

“Good God, you can’t possibly go there.”

Hester looked up from her plate, startled. “Why not?”

“Because—You must know what an unsavory area that is.”

“Yes, I know, but I shall have Trevor with me, and—

“Ah,” said Thorne in a withering tone. “You set my mind at rest. What could possibly befall you in the company of the stalwart Mr. Bentham?”

Hester flushed. “I scarcely think anything at all is liable to befall us, but I assure you we will be accompanied by a full complement of coachman, groom, and probably a footman or two.”

Thorne’s frown did not diminish. “I still cannot like it.”

“I am sorry for that, my lord, but you must know that your likes and dislikes do not form the basis for my decisions.”

Thorne opened his mouth, but Chloe, who had so far taken no part in this discussion, now piped up. “I am planning to attend the lecture as well, Uncle Thorne.” Her mouth set mulishly as she delivered this information.

“Absolutely not,” said Thorne flatly.

Hester sighed. She had not been given the opportunity to speak privately to Thorne about her recently conceived plans for Chloe’s future. Dear Lord, left to his own devices, he would make mice feet of the whole thing! She cleared her throat.

“But I’m sure Chloe would benefit from such an outing.” She sent the earl a significant glance, but since he was glaring at Chloe, the look went considerably wide of the mark.

“What benefit could Chloe possibly receive from mingling with a set of malcontents and radicals?” Thorne at last twisted to look at Hester full in the face.

“I’m sure it would prove most instructive. She will observe firsthand the life of a crusader—the problems—the people one encounters,”

Thorne opened his mouth once more, but paused, suddenly arrested. The significant glance had phased into a look of such steely austerity that he nearly choked on his fricandeau of beef.

He waved his fork dismissively. “We’ll discuss it later,” he said, and Hester breathed out a small gust of relief.

Later proved to be some two hours after dinner, in the drawing room, where Thorne and Hester and Aunt Lavinia had gathered. Chloe, having refused her first proposal of marriage, and having been virtually snubbed by her preceptress, and subsequently having undergone a thundering scold from her guardian and a tearful, reproachful monologue from her aunt, felt that she had endured enough for one day and retired early with a headache.

“Now then, Hester,” said Thorne, fortifying himself with a glass of port. “Let us have a round tale, if you please. I have, I think you will agree, behaved with admirable circumspection, but—

“Circumspection!” echoed Hester. “The first thing you did when you arrived home this afternoon was to rake poor Chloe down like a schoolmaster.”

Thorne merely grinned. “If you think that was a rake-down, you have never seen me at the top of my form.” The grin faded. “You must admit, she deserved much worse. I have spent the better part of a year carefully nurturing a relationship between that infuriating little widgeon and a perfectly acceptable candidate for her hand. And now, just when I thought matters were coming to fruition, she blows my whole scheme right out of the water. I hope you have something cheerful to tell me concerning the situation.”

“Well, I think I do,” replied Hester calmly. She leaned forward. “As I said before, I believe Chloe to be on the verge of falling in love with Mr. Wery, if she has not begun to do so already. She merely needs a little judicious nudging. Nudging,” she repeated with a minatory stare at Thorne, “not flaying with a broadsword.”

Lady Lavinia chuckled, but sobered almost immediately. “But, if she has refused Mr. Wery, how is he to pursue his suit without setting up her back even further.”

Hester sat back. “That’s just it. He will not pursue his suit at all.”

“Oh, for God’s sake!” Thorne threw up a hand in exasperation. “Is this what you call a plan? What is he to do? Retire to the country, hoping that absence will make Chloe’s heart grow fonder?”

“No, of course not.” Hester replied coolly, but she was forced to keep a firm grip on her temper. “My plan is to ensure that Chloe will encounter Mr. Wery nearly everywhere she goes. I have instructed the young man—he has agreed to be guided by my counsel, by the way—to treat her in a friendly, courteous manner, paying her pretty compliments from time to time, just as he will all the other young ladies present. In no way is he to hint that he is pursuing Chloe. Quite the contrary. From what Chloe has said, tales of young Mr. Wery’s exploits during the carriage incident have engendered a great deal of admiration among the young female population of the
ton
, and—”

“Oh!” cried Lady Lavinia. “You intend that Chloe should be made to perceive Mr. Wery’s worth through the eyes of her contemporaries. How very ingenious, my dear.”

Thorne merely snorted. “What will happen is that Chloe will be excessively relieved to be rid of John’s attentions and will further immerse herself in—The Cause,” he finished in dramatic accents. “I shall never get the chit married off.”

“If that is the case,” responded Hester serenely, “you no longer need my services. I shall be happy to return to Overcross, my lord, if you will—”

“No!” said Thorne hastily. “No, no—there’s no need for that. All right,” he said, capitulating. “I suppose I have nothing to lose at this point by complying with your Byzantine little plot.”

“Thorne.” Lady Lavinia spoke in accents of gentle reproof, “you could be a little more gracious. Hester has gone out of her way to take on your problems, and it seems to me that she has done wonders with Chloe already. I see no reason why her plans should not culminate in a very desirable conclusion.”

Thorne turned to look at Hester.

“Please accept my apology, Miss Blayne,” he said grudgingly, putting Hester strongly in mind of a schoolboy called to book for his misdeeds. “Now, what would you have me do?”

“Nothing,” replied Hester in a firm voice. “Cease your exhortations to Chloe, and behave as though you have accepted defeat on the Wery front. If she should speak to you of him, be noncommittal—disinterested, even, as though you have come to the realization that the doings of Mr. Wery are no longer of any consequence to you.”

“Very well,” said Thorne. “I place Chloe’s fate—and mine, so to speak—in your hands.”

Hester merely smiled, wishing that his words inspired her with a greater degree of confidence than she felt.

* * * *

It was almost a week before Hester’s grand scheme went into actual operation. On a balmy evening in May, she stood in the music room in Bythorne House, greeting guests who had arrived for a meeting of the Friends of Ancient Writing. The name had become something of a misnomer over the years, for, though many of the members labored over treatises on Greek playwrights and Roman poets, so many reformers had begun appearing at these gatherings that the group had become a sort of central clearinghouse for those who sought to bring about social change.

The room was beginning to fill when Lady Barbara Free-mantle entered. Uttering a pleased expression, Hester hurried to greet her.

“Lady Barbara! I was hoping you would come!”

“Oh Lord, Hester,” replied the young woman, “could we dispense with Lady Barbara? My friends call me Barbara, and now that you have lured me into your den of wild-eyed firebrands, I think the time for formality is long past.”

Hester grinned. “Very well—Barbara, welcome to my set.” She swept an arm around the chamber. “Where would you like to start? Ancient literature? Prison reform? Aid to young streetwalkers?”

“Mm. The streetwalker issue sounds promising. I was reading something on the subject in the Ladies Magazine the other day, so perhaps I can pretend I actually know what I’m talking about.”

Hester led her to a group of comfortably upholstered matrons who had given much of their time and effort to providing alternative employment to the uncounted denizens of London’s brothels. They were patently amazed to find the daughter of an earl in their midst, but their initial flutterings soon gave way to gratified acceptance, and after a few moments, Hester moved away.

“You didn’t tell me
he
was going to be here,” hissed a voice at her elbow. She whirled to find Chloe, her hand at her breast, staring at the doorway in horror. Turning, she beheld John Wery entering the room. There was an indefinable change in his appearance since the last time he had appeared in Bythorne House. It might be assumed that he looked on the failure of his recent courtship of Miss Venable as a sort of liberation, for he was garbed in much more fashionable attire than his usual plain-country-gentleman dress. His hair had been cropped, emphasizing the planes of his face and even seeming to increase the size and brilliance of his eyes. There was certainly no question that he was standing straighter these days. He glanced around and catching sight of Chloe, smiled, but did not move toward her.

“Oh yes,” replied Hester casually to Chloe’s comment. “He expressed an interest in my work, so I invited him. I was not sure he would appear, but I am glad he has come.”

“Oh, but, Hester, how could you?” Chloe fluttered a hand in distress. “It will be so awkward.”

“Oh, I think not. You have encountered him once or twice already since you refused his proposal, have you not? His manner seemed unexceptionable.”

“Yes, I suppose it was,” said Chloe with a faintly dissatisfied air. “He certainly did not present the air of a rejected suitor. In fact, if I did not know him better, I would say that he was actually flirting with Cynthia Morevale at Lady Meecham’s rout. And Charlotte St. John, as well. Not that the silly twits weren’t giving him a scandalous degree of encouragement.”

“Mmm. Perhaps you don’t know John as well as you thought.”

“Apparently not,” snapped Chloe. “His own mother might not recognize him in his fashionable new togs. Even his hair . ..”

“Yes, that style becomes him, I think. Do not you?”

“Perhaps, but I vow, I cannot like it,” Chloe responded with a sniff.

Hester smiled. “How fortunate for him, then, that he need no longer concern himself with your approval.”

Chloe made no reply, but with a twitch of her skirts whirled on her heel and marched off in the opposite direction from the young man in the doorway. A moment later, she could be seen in animated conversation with a pallid gentleman of poetic demeanor.

Hester glanced around the room, realizing almost at once for whom she was unconsciously seeking. Though he had expressed his intention of joining her gathering this evening, Thorne had not been home for dinner and she had seen nothing of him during the evening. Not that it mattered, of course. She was merely a little disgruntled that he would not keep a stated appointment. How very like him, she thought.

But no, it was not, was it? Charles, Lord Bythorne, might give the impression of careless disdain for the mores of society in general and the feelings of others in particular, but she had come to know this was not so. Where his family and true friends were concerned, he displayed a caring commitment that bordered on the autocratic.

Hester’s lips curved in a smile. Well, perhaps more than bordered, for his attitude surely cut a wide swath in that territory. He had expressed on several occasions his determination that she would not make her proposed speech at the Blue Boar. Her mouth firmed. There was no denying she took a barely acknowledged pleasure in this indication of his newly born friendship for her, but she would not allow him to dictate her actions.

She shook herself a little as she noted the entrance of a newcomer.

“Trevor!” she cried, making her way toward him. “I have been waiting anxiously for your arrival.”

Which was not quite true, she told herself, but it should be.

She paused in her greeting to acknowledge the presence of another gentleman, who had entered the room behind Trevor. Robert Carver stood diffidently just inside the door, his eyes lighting as he beheld his hostess.

“Mr. Carver! How nice of you to join us. May I present Mr. Trevor Bentham?”

Courteous greetings were exchanged between the two men, but is was soon obvious that Trevor Bentham had not come to Bythorne House for polite intercourse. At the earliest opportunity he drew Hester aside.

“I have called here several times within the last few days,” he said severely, “and was told on each occasion that you were out.” The last words were uttered in such an accusatory tone that Hester was forced to smile.

“Well, I have been out a great deal, Trevor. Really,” she said with a laugh, “I had no idea the amount of clothes required to dress one small tonnish miss. My life seems to be an endless round of shopping with Chloe ever since I arrived in London.”

“Ah,” said Trevor in a tone of deep reproach, “that she who carries the lamp of enlightenment for women should be reduced to the role of companion for a spoiled young woman.”

This remark put Hester so out of charity with him that she was forced to bite back a stinging retort. Instead, she called to mind the duration and depth of her friendship with him and said calmly, “It is nothing of the sort, Trevor, as I believe you well understand. I have come to look on the Trents as my friends as well as my relatives, and I do not feel I am demeaning myself in coming to Thorne’s assistance. I know you would do the same for anyone who needed yours. Now, if you will excuse me, I must see to my guests.”