Death Comes to London (7 page)

“Broughton will be well rid of the pair of them.”

“I beg your pardon, my lady?”

“I don’t want such emotional traits bred into my family.” The dowager snapped the lid of the snuffbox shut. “I’ll order Broughton to keep away from them both.”

Lucy curtsied. “That is, of course, your prerogative, my lady. Now, may I fetch you some tea?”

She walked away before she said something she shouldn’t. What an interfering woman! She made Lucy look amateurish. She could only hope that Broughton was made of sterner stuff and would not allow his grandmother to influence his decisions at all.

Major Kurland came up to her and bowed. “Miss Harrington, I’ll take my leave of you. I have an appointment with my solicitor.”

“Then you definitely mustn’t be late.”

She held out her hand and he brought it to his lips. “A pleasure, Miss Harrington. I swear that whenever I encounter you I can be sure of some kind of excitement. It is quite remarkable.”

“Your amusement at my expense is hardly edifying, Major. The dowager countess is determined to meddle in her grandson’s affairs.”

“I’m sure you’ll soon put a stop to that.” He saluted and had the audacity to wink before he went out the door, leaving Lucy staring after him.

For her appearance at Almack’s that evening, Lucy decided to wear her favorite new dress, which comprised a gray-blue shot silk slip covered with British net and augmented by a deep flounce of blond lace at the bodice and the sash sewn under the high waist. Both Sophia and Anna said it complemented her coloring and her eyes and, although she was not one to be vain about her looks, she did look rather well in it.

Lieutenant Broughton had called during the preceding week, as had Mr. Stanford. There had been no sign of Major Kurland, although his friends intimated that he was busy with regimental business and the officials of the court.

The Clavelly party, which included the Harrington sisters, soon joined the Broughtons, who were expecting Major Kurland to meet them when he was done with his business. Both Lucy and Sophia had been granted permission to waltz by the patronesses of Almack’s so they would not have to sit the dance out. Lucy wasn’t quite sure of the steps and wondered whether she’d prefer not to be asked to attempt it after all.

Almost as soon as they entered the ballroom, Miss Chingford appeared at Lucy’s elbow and smiled, showing far too many teeth.

Lucy merely looked at her and Miss Chingford tittered. “Oh, Miss Harrington, don’t stare at me so. You are just the person I wanted to see.”

“Are you quite sure?”

Lucy almost balked when Miss Chingford linked her arm through hers and dragged her away from her friends before turning to face her.

“I am a great believer in finding out the truth.”

“What could I possibly know that interests you?”

“Is it true that Major Kurland is to be ennobled?”

“I am hardly likely to have such information, Miss Chingford. You’ll have to ask him yourself.”

“So there is something to ask about?”

“I have no idea.”

Miss Chingford narrowed her eyes. “You’re lying.”

Lucy curtsied. “Good evening, Miss Chingford.” She turned away, but Miss Chingford followed her right into the middle of the Broughton party.

“I insist on knowing the truth!”

Before Lucy could say anything, the dowager countess snorted. “And I insist that you go away. No one wishes to hear your loud voice, or witness your deplorable manners, young woman!”

“My manners are impeccable! It is your family who should be ashamed of themselves.” Miss Chingford raised her chin at the dowager. “You are an outright bully, and your grandson is a coward who can’t even stand up for himself!”

Lucy looked from the dowager to Miss Chingford but couldn’t bring herself to step between them. It was rather like watching a battle from ancient Greek mythology. No one else intervened either, although Anna did take a tiny step forward.

“My lady—”

The dowager’s cold gaze skimmed over Anna. “I’m going to speak to Lady Jersey and ask her to revoke
both
your vouchers for Almack’s. I cannot have my grandson fought over like a bone in such a public place!”

Miss Chingford gasped. “You horrible old woman! How
dare
you! You would ruin my entire life, my entire
future
over your numbskull of a grandson? I could strangle you for this!” She made an impulsive movement toward the dowager, but Broughton stepped in front of her.

“It’s all right, Miss Chingford. Let me escort you back to your mother.”

Lucy thought Miss Chingford had done more to harm her own reputation than the dowager ever could. Threatening an old lady was hardly becoming behavior from anyone, let alone a peer’s granddaughter.

“Good Lord.” The dowager swayed and stumbled against Lucy, who instinctively caught her arm.

“Perhaps you should sit down, my lady.” Lucy helped the dowager into a chair and studied her pale, sweating countenance. “Shall I fetch you something to drink?”

“Don’t pretend to be nice to me, Miss Harrington. It won’t save your sister or that awful Miss Chingford from expulsion from Almack’s.”

“I don’t care what happens to Miss Chingford, but Anna has done nothing to offend you in the slightest.”

“Apart from leach on to my grandson?”

“She can do much better than him, I assure you.”

The dowager withdrew her snuffbox. “Then make sure she does.”

Barely containing her temper, Lucy rose to her feet and saw Broughton coming back from delivering Miss Chingford to her mother.

“Lieutenant?”

Poor Broughton looked rather distraught. “Yes, Miss Harrington?”

“Would it be possible to fetch your grandmother a drink? She isn’t feeling quite the thing.”

“Of course, Miss Harrington. I’ll find one of the staff and see to it immediately.”

Lucy walked over to where Anna stood; her usual smile was missing and her troubled gaze fixed on the retreating Broughton.

She clung to Lucy’s hand. “Oh, Lucy, whatever am I to do? Broughton’s grandmother
hates
me.”

“She is a loathsome old toad,” Lucy whispered. “If Broughton really cares for you, he’ll find a way to negate his grandmother’s influence over him. It will be a good test of his true affection.”

Anna managed to nod. “I suppose that is true, although we have hardly spoken of such matters yet.”

“Then don’t let it worry you and try to ignore all the gossiping fools around here. I doubt the dowager has the influence to have your voucher revoked after all.”

Even as she spoke, the dowager heaved herself to her feet using her cane and set off toward the door of the club where two of the patronesses were still standing welcoming new guests.

“Oh dear,” Lucy sighed. “She is rather like a runaway horse, isn’t she? Impossible to stop. I still doubt Lady Jersey will listen to her. From what I hear, she doesn’t like her authority being challenged by anyone, and I doubt the dowager will be diplomatic.”

Robert came into the ballroom and paused to look about the assembled throng. He was due to meet the Prince Regent tomorrow and had hoped to go home and regroup after that. Unfortunately, he’d been drawn into consultations with the College of Arms about his title and new coat of arms. He’d also been included in several military dinners and meetings, which were impossible to refuse.

He’d spent rather too much of his spare time with the Broughtons. He’d never met a family who seemed to dislike each other so intensely, and would prefer to be on a battlefield than sitting across a dining table from the dowager and Oliver Broughton. It certainly felt far more dangerous.

The dowager seemed to delight in causing disharmony, and Robert had begun to wonder why Broughton wished to be home at all. Foley said that gossip insisted the atmosphere in the kitchens was no better with the household staff ranged firmly on the side of the family member they interacted with the most. The older retainers were for the dowager, while the younger were split between protecting the countess and the two brothers.

“Major Kurland!”

He looked down to see Miss Chingford waving at him.

She put her hand on his sleeve. “May I ask you something?”

“If you must.”

“Do you have it within your heart to forgive me?”

“No, Miss Chingford, I do not.”

“I was a fool to let you go.”

“Hardly. We agreed we wouldn’t suit. And as far as I am aware, nothing has changed.” He bowed, detached her hand from his arm, and started walking slowly toward the Broughton party where he could also see the Miss Harringtons and Andrew Stanford.

Miss Chingford didn’t follow him, but remained by the door, her hand pressed to her chest in a most affecting manner, which set all Robert’s nerves on edge. When he glanced back, her gaze had shifted to the Dowager Countess of Broughton, who had paused to exchange what looked like angry words with her.

Robert kept going, his gaze settling on the unremarkable features of Miss Lucy Harrington. She, at least, was an island of sanity and calm good sense that many of the young ladies here would do well to emulate. She was also smiling at something Stanford was saying to her, which made him pause.

“Miss Harrington?”

She looked up at him and curtsied. “Major, you’ve missed all the excitement again. The dowager countess is attempting to get Miss Chingford and Anna thrown out of Almack’s.”

“I doubt she will succeed.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Because I just saw her coming this way after speaking to Lady Jersey and she looked absolutely furious.”

“Oh, thank goodness,” Miss Harrington said. “Anna is beside herself.”

“And Miss Chingford?”

“Too busy looking for you to find out if you are to be ennobled.”

“Ah, that’s why she was trying to ingratiate herself with me again.”

“She’s already tried?” Miss Harrington shook her head. “Five minutes ago she was threatening to strangle the dowager, and now she’s moved on to reattaching herself to you. One has to admire her stamina.” She looked over his shoulder. “Where is the dowager now?”

“Talking to another old harridan and arguing with
her.
Does she ever stop?”

“That’s Lady Bentley. Apparently, the dowager has accused her of stealing some jewelry from her.”

“So I’ve heard over the dinner table all week.” Robert considered the gaunt peeress, who was now pointing her finger in the dowager’s face to emphasize each word. “I can’t see Lady Bentley breaking into someone’s house, can you?”

“No, but my aunt says they’ve hated each other for years, but no one quite remembers why. Recently, all-out war has broken out again.”

“The dowager does seem to have a gift for bringing out the worst in people. They are coming toward us. Let’s stage a retreat.”

Miss Harrington turned with him and pretended to admire the potted palm trees and exotic flowers that decorated the ballroom. “It must be wonderful to see such things in their natural state.”

“While your clothes stick to you, your skin is attacked and bitten by a million insects and you fear the native population are going to kill you?”

“You have no imagination, Major.”

“That’s because I’ve actually experienced such places, and know that in reality you’d be running away screaming.”

“I would not.” She raised her chin. “Although the chances of my ever being able to
prove
that to you, or any other man, are remote, as I’ll never be given the opportunity to travel.”

“Perhaps this mythical husband of yours had better be a world traveler. I believe Captain McNamara is looking for a new wife.”

“And he is over fifty years old.”

“I didn’t realize you were inclined to be so particular.”

“I suppose you assume I have no choice!”

“I—” He blinked at her. “I beg your pardon.”

“Accepted. Will you please take me back to my aunt?”

Taking her elbow, he maneuvered her back into the circle around Anna and the Countess of Clavelly. Broughton looked up as his grandmother approached with Lady Bentley still in tow and groaned. He put down his almost full glass.

“Oh no, not again.”

“Lieutenant, can you try and draw Lady Bentley off while I deal with your grandmother?” Miss Harrington asked. “She does look
rather
overwrought.”

A tray with glasses of orgeat stood on the side table and she picked up the last two. Miss Harrington went up to the dowager, who was visibly shaking with anger, her narrow lips thinned, and her cheeks a hectic red.

“My lady, please take some orgeat and sit down. You look rather warm.”

For a moment Robert tensed, ready to intervene as the dowager’s black gaze fastened on Miss Harrington. Then she abruptly held out her hand and took the glass.

“Thank you.”

“I hope it chokes the old witch.”

Robert glanced across at Oliver Broughton, who was glaring at his grandmother, his expression a mixture of embarrassment and contempt. With a muttered oath, Oliver turned on his heel and stalked away toward the card room.

“Good gracious!”

Robert switched his attention back to Miss Harrington, who was now staring down in consternation at the skirt of her blue gown.

He removed the empty glass from her hand. “You’re supposed to drink it, Miss Harrington. Not throw it all over yourself, or were you aiming at the dowager countess?”

She held the wet fabric away from her. “Someone caught my elbow from behind. This was my favorite dress.”

“I’m sure it can be fixed.” Anxious to avoid another female expressing her emotions, Robert looked frantically around. “Shall I find your aunt or Mrs. Hathaway so that they can accompany you to the ladies’ retiring room?”

“I can do that myself, thank you, Major. Oh good Lord.” She glanced distractedly around the ballroom. “Now Miss Chingford is bearing down on us and Lieutenant Broughton has allowed Lady Bentley to escape him. They are both converging on the dowager and she really isn’t well. All that rage comes at a price.”

“That’s not your concern, Miss Harrington. Let Broughton handle his grandmother and take yourself off to the retiring room. I’ll stay here and tell you what happens. I even promise to intervene if it proves necessary.”