Lady Jane's Ribbons (7 page)

She raised an eyebrow. ‘I thought you said untruths didn’t spring easily to your lips, sir. This one certainly has.’

‘I have the odd lapse or two.’

‘So it seems.’

‘Will it do, that’s the point.’

She nodded. ‘Yes, I think so. She’ll still be upset, but if she thinks he did really intend to come, it won’t hurt quite as much.’

‘There, you see, I can be quite agreeable and lovable after all,’ he murmured, reaching out to rather mockingly flick the long curl falling from the knot on her head.

‘When you cut me earlier you showed precious little of either quality,’ she retorted, moving away a little, too conscious of the effect even that small touch had upon her.

‘When I declined to greet you as effusively as you no doubt think you deserve, I did so because I recalled how very irritating you were this
morning
,’ he countered.

‘I was confronted by your flighty
belle de nuit
a little earlier tonight,’ she went on as if he hadn’t spoken, ‘and
she
showed precious little real quality either.’

Smiling a little, he folded his arms and surveyed her. ‘Ah, yes, the encounter on the stairs – I
have
been told.’

‘I’ll warrant you have,’ she replied, looking toward the terrace where almost as if on cue, a tall, elegant figure in lime green silk had appeared. Alicia stood watching them for a moment and then went back into the
ballroom
, the plumes in her hair streaming angrily behind her. Jane couldn’t help a secret smile; Alicia evidently felt that they’d been alone in the
darkness
for a little too long.

Lewis hadn’t noticed his mistress, he was too intent upon ruffling Jane’s feathers a little. ‘There’s something I’m most intrigued about….’

‘Yes?’

‘Your apparently overwhelming curiosity about my recent sojourn in Paris.’

She felt her cheeks become hot. ‘I’m not in the least bit curious,’ she replied.

‘No? Then why bring up the subject again with Alicia?’

‘Did I?’ she answered airily. ‘I really don’t remember.’

‘No?’ His tone was sardonic.

‘No.’

‘I’m far from convinced, especially as I’ve now formed a very definite opinion on the matter.’

‘Indeed?’

‘Yes, your insatiable interest about what happened in Paris is born of one thing and one thing only – jealousy.’

She was glad of the darkness because she knew her cheeks were now aflame. ‘You flatter yourself, sir. Go wherever you please, with whomever you please, it’s of no consequence to me since you only strike a damp in my estimation these days.’

‘Is that so? I must be losing my touch.’

‘Well, to be sure, you didn’t have a great deal to lose.’

‘Now that, my dearest Jane, smacks of out-and-out provocation,’ he said softly. Before she knew what was happening, his lips were over hers and he was holding her so close that she couldn’t draw away. His kiss was
relentless
, teasing, arousing and enticing her reluctant and unwilling senses into a response which was so urgent and demanding that she needed every last ounce of willpower to deny it.

With a laugh, he abruptly released her, and she dealt him a furious blow, her fingers leaving angry marks on his cheeks. ‘How
dare
you!’ she breathed.

But he merely grinned, rubbing his cheek. ‘Well, one thing’s for sure, I certainly haven’t lost my touch! I can raise rather more than a damp with you!’

At that moment a woman ran out of the ballroom and across the terrace, her gown glittering and her feather boa flapping wildly behind her. It was Blanche. She hurried across the grass toward them, and as she came closer they could see the tears shining wet on her cheeks.

Jane was alarmed. ‘Blanche? Whatever is it?’

Blanche flung herself into her arms. ‘Tell me it isn’t true!’ she begged, her voice choking on sobs. ‘Tell me Henry’s going to be here tonight after all! He is, Jane, isn’t he?’

Jane held her close, looking in dismay at Lewis.

Blanche seemed suddenly to become aware that Lewis was there too, for she drew back in embarrassment, dabbing her eyes with her handkerchief and trying to stifle her sobs. In spite of her distress, it was plain that she was a little startled to find Jane out alone in the garden with the man who had betrayed her. ‘I – I’m sorry to make such a fuss,’ she said, struggling to fight back the tears, ‘it’s just that when Alicia told me—’

‘
Alicia
?’ Jane tossed Lewis a furious glance. So this was Alicia’s work, was it?

‘She – she said Henry was in Brighton and couldn’t possibly come to the ball. It isn’t true, is it, Jane?’

‘Well, he
is
in Brighton,’ confessed Jane, feeling quite dreadful, and
furious
with Alicia for having so callously broken such news to poor Blanche.

Blanche was searching her face. ‘But he’s coming back tonight, isn’t he?’

Lewis stepped in then. ‘He had every intention of being here, Blanche, he told me so, but now it’s as late as this, I can only think that something urgent has detained him.’

Alarm leapt into her eyes. ‘You don’t think he’s had an accident, do you?’

‘No, of course not,’ he said quickly. ‘It’s most probably something to do with his coaching affairs. After all, he
is
a coachmaster now.’

‘Oh. I hadn’t thought of that.’

‘He’s a man of business, Blanche, and you know how seriously he takes it all.’

‘Yes.’ She sighed resignedly. ‘You’re right, of course, and it would have to be something very important to prevent him from being here. Oh dear, I feel a little foolish now, but when Alicia told me I was quite devastated. I think she thought I didn’t believe her, so she said I’d find you out here.’ Again, Blanche looked a little embarrassed, as if she’d interrupted an assignation.

Jane tossed a dark look at the terrace where last she’d seen Alicia. That’s what all this was really about; Alicia was getting her own back for having been defeated on the stairs, and she was making sure that the
tête-à-tête
in the garden did not continue for a moment longer. How callous and spiteful to use poor Blanche.

Blanche dabbed her eyes for a last time and then put the handkerchief away in her little reticule. ‘What a silly fuss I’ve made. What must you be thinking of me?’

‘I think you were quite justified,’ said Jane, ‘especially when Alicia told you such a story.’

‘Oh, I’m sure she didn’t mean to upset me.’

Jane had to bite back the reply that blistered to her lips at this, for there was no doubt in her mind that Alicia had meant everything.

Blanche rearranged her boa. ‘I suppose I’d better go back. It won’t be the same now I know that Henry won’t be coming, but at least I know that he meant to.’ She gave a rueful smile. ‘I kept hoping that he’d come and rescue me from the Duke of Dursley, who’s been a positive limpet all evening. Oh, before I forget, Jane, you are still coming to the exhibition with me
tomorrow
, aren’t you?’

‘Exhibition?’

Blanche pretended to be a little cross. ‘There, I
knew
you’d manage to forget, because you loathe Dutch landscapes and I adore them.’

‘Oh, the paintings at the Hanover Square Rooms!’

‘Yes.’

Jane smiled. ‘Of course I’m still coming.’

‘Good. Now I really must return to the fray, before Papa wonders where I am. He’s being very difficult, Jane; he simply will not stop trying to persuade me that the Duke of Dursley would be a much finer catch than Henry. It’s Henry I love, though, so that’s that.’ With a last smile, she
gathered 
her shimmering skirts and hurried away again.

The incident had momentarily put Lewis’s previous ungentlemanly
treatment
out of Jane’s mind. She watched Blanche hurrying away. ‘Henry
doesn’t
deserve her; she’s far too good for him.’

‘I won’t argue with that.’

‘I didn’t enjoy fibbing to her.’

‘It was kinder than the truth.’

‘Yes, which is something dear Alicia might have considered.’

‘I intend speaking to her about it.’

‘Good, because if you don’t, I most certainly will!’

‘I can imagine. Still, it isn’t Alicia I’m concerned with at the moment, it’s more important to make certain that Henry doesn’t put his insensitive foot in it when he returns. We must see he’s armed with a story that tallies with what we’ve said, so working on the principle that what drives out of the Fleece in Thames Street must sooner or later drive back there again, I shall send a man there with a note informing Henry what’s been done on his undeserving behalf and warning him that unless he invents some suitably convincing excuse, he’ll have me to answer to.’ He looked at her then, as if waiting for something. ‘Well? Aren’t you going to thank me for my efforts?’

She remembered his considerable transgression then. ‘To which effort do you refer, sir?’ she asked a little coldly.

He smiled. ‘Ah, I see that you are recalling the incredibly ineffective
damp
I raised in you a little earlier.’

‘I recall your monstrous indiscretion!’

‘Look at me in that way, Jane, and you invite more than you realize,’ he replied, taking a step toward her.

With a gasp, she stepped hastily back, turning to flee across the grass. His mocking laughter followed her.

The flush of humiliation remained on her cheeks as she rejoined Charles in the supper room, and it seemed that for a long time afterward she could still hear Lewis laughing at her. She’d made a fool of herself by allowing him to take such advantage; she must never let it happen again. Charles noticed the flush, but didn’t say anything, though he gave Lewis a dark look when next he saw him.

News of Henry’s definite absence spread like wildfire, fueling speculation about the Duke of Dursley’s chances. Jane had endured enough whispering about her brother
before
the revelations about Brighton, but now it was ten
times worse. She felt quite miserable, and wasn’t helped at all by seeing how Lewis still devoted his ardent attention to Alicia, whose unkindness toward Blanche had apparently not put her beyond the pale as far as he was concerned. They danced together for the remainder of the ball and he didn’t glance once toward his former fiancée. Alicia did though, and her green eyes were spitefully triumphant.

As dawn began to lighten the eastern sky, Jane at last managed to escape, avoiding Charles and driving back across London with a tactfully silent Ellen. South Audley Street was unexpectedly and blessedly peaceful, because the queen had earlier removed herself to Portland Place, taking her army of yahoos with her.

Jane lay awake in her silent bedroom, watching the dawn become brighter as she thought about what had happened at the ball. She wished with all her heart that she’d stayed away and thus denied Lewis the chance to hurt her all over again. Outside, the calls from the dairymaids leaving the dairy in nearby Queen Street began to ring out, but she was only dimly aware because sleep at last overtook her.

She rose very late, coming down to learn that there still hadn’t been any word from her errant brother. She breakfasted alone, wondering if Lewis’s message would reach him when he deigned to return, or if by some
dreadful
mischance he wouldn’t receive it and would go straight to see Blanche without knowing what had been said on his behalf. She gazed at her cup of China tea. What point was there in worrying about it? Henry was his own master and would have to get himself out of any scrape. She leaned back in her chair, smoothing the rich folds of her cherry-and-white-checkered muslin morning dress. It was a bright, cheerful garment, making her appear much more carefree than she felt. The clock on the mantelpiece chimed, the sweet sound drifting over the quiet room. How good it was to be free at last of the constant racket from the street; it would have been very pleasant indeed had she not had so much on her mind.

Melville brought Henry’s morning newspaper in and she began to browse through it. A theatrical review caught her attention. There was a new production at the Theater Royal, Drury Lane, and its first night had been a sensational success because of the appearance on stage of a well-known and very beautiful actress clad in very tight breeches. The lady concerned was the hitherto very proper Madame Vestris, and the play was entitled
Don Giovanni in London,
a burlesque on Mozart’s opera. Jane made a mental note to be sure to go and see it soon.

She was about to set the newspaper aside when suddenly an
advertisement
caught her eye. As she read it, she became incensed.

Stimulated by the base exertions of a determined opposition, the Earl of Felbridge, proprietor of the esteemed Iron Duke stagecoach, is prepared to meet the crisis with the weight of superior force and efficiency. Passengers are assured of traveling in the utmost safety, and are promised punctuality more
precise than any coach has hitherto been capable of offering. The Iron Duke is peerless, the monarch of the Brighton road, and will never again allow the intervention of jealous, inferior rivals to succeed. If further proof of this
superiority
is required, doubters are invited to look forward to Midsummer Day, when the Iron Duke will see off its feeble and unworthy challenger in a fitting and decisive manner, and the Earl of Felbridge will emerge triumphant and with a much fatter purse with which to toast his victory.

So, Henry Derwent had been too busy and preoccupied yesterday to be bothered to remember his fiancée’s birthday ball, but he’d managed to find time not only to see Lewis about horsing his beastly Iron Duke, but also to go to the newspaper to insert this provocative clarion call aimed at goading Chapman. The phrase ‘fatter purse’ revealed the advertisement to be
yesterday’s
work. Her fingers drummed angrily on the table as she considered her brother’s conduct. He needed teaching a lesson, and his increasingly
wrathful
sister was just the person to do it.

She had just finished discussing the day’s meals with the cook, Mrs Beale, when she at last heard the sound of Henry’s phaeton in the street, the
clatter
of hooves carrying quite clearly now that the queen’s supporters had gone. A moment later, he entered the breakfast room, looking travel-worn and tired, and immediately on his guard when he saw his sister’s dark glance.

He was on the defensive. ‘Before you say anything, I know I’ve covered myself with mud again, and I’ve already been to see Blanche to make my peace.’

‘I trust you received Lewis’s message.’

‘I did.’ He went to the sideboard, helping himself to an extremely large breakfast of bacon, eggs, kidneys, tomatoes, and sausage.

She waited until he sat down. ‘You received his note, so what exactly did you say to Blanche? I must know if I’m to keep up the pretense on your behalf.’

‘I told her a suitable tale,’ he replied noncommittally, grinning a little.

‘You look inordinately pleased with yourself,’ she said suspiciously.

He applied himself to his breakfast. ‘Don’t start fussing, Jane. Blanche accepts my excuses for not being there last night, so I think you should leave the subject alone, don’t you?’

‘Don’t be so insufferably conceited about getting away with it, Henry Derwent. You placed me in an invidious position last night, not knowing if your lamentable memory would save the day or not. How
dare
you sit there now looking so smug with yourself for slipping out from under! Your match with Blanche is only intact this morning because Lewis and I couldn’t bear to see her so upset and hurt!’

‘Oh, so it’s Lewis and
I
, is it?’ he said, attempting to deflect the
conversation
. ‘You’ve changed your tune where he’s concerned, have you?’

‘Don’t try to change the subject,’ she snapped, so angry that she could
have tipped his plate over his impossible head. ‘I don’t think you’d be quite so full of yourself if you’d seen the Duke of Dursley dancing constant, extremely efficient attention upon Blanche last night! The whole of London is speculating about how long it will be before he wins her.’

He speared a sausage with his fork. ‘The damned fellow was there again this morning, grinning all over his sly, painted face and being the dandy with his lace handkerchief, flicking it in all directions as if beset by a swarm of flies. He reeks of scent, you know – it’s like being in a room with a civet cat.’

‘Blanche doesn’t appear to find him that offensive.’

‘He irritates her; she told me so this morning.’

‘More fool her. I’d have left you wondering.’

‘You’re downright cold-hearted, sis dear. Anyway, I wasn’t wondering anything, because I’d very quickly wiped the grin off his scheming face. And off old Lyndon’s, for that matter.’ He smiled, looking more smug and
self-satisfied
than ever.

She looked at him with misgiving. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Oh, I demolished them both with my wit,’ he replied airily.

Such airiness meant that he was loath to confess the truth, so she pressed him. ‘That’s no answer, and you know it.’

‘You’re like a dog with a bone sometimes, aren’t you?’

‘I know when you’re avoiding the crux of something, Henry Derwent.’

‘There are times when I wish you’d stay permanently in Cheshire.’

‘I’m waiting, Henry.’

He shrugged. ‘As you wish. It so happens that last night in Brighton there was a particularly bad fire. A warehouse went up like tinder and endangered a great many properties nearby. There was quite a to-do, I can tell you, with fire engines and crowds, and the flames were so high that I felt compelled to go and watch. Anyway, I didn’t think anything more about it until I reached the Fleece this morning and found Lewis’s note waiting. Then I had my inspiration and toddled off to Lyndon House to put paid to Dursley’s hopes by telling them that I’d been kept in Brighton because I’d helped fight the fire. I described my valor so vividly that I swear by the time I finished they could smell the smoke on my clothes.’ He grinned. ‘You should have seen Dursley’s fool jaw drop, I don’t know if with astonishment or fury, both probably. It was a sweet moment, Jane, I promise you.’

Jane was staring disbelievingly at him. He’d behaved atrociously, he’d forgotten Blanche and her ball because of his obsession with coaching, and now he’d told monstrous fibs about heroism in order to get out of it. He even had the gall to sit there now virtually patting himself on the back for his cleverness! It was too much! ‘Henry Derwent,’ she breathed disgustedly, ‘you are without a doubt the most selfish, odious toad it has ever been my misfortune to know, and I wish with all my heart that you soon come the cropper you so richly merit!’

‘I say—’ he began in protest.

‘Don’t say anything more in your own defense, sir, because I’m ashamed that you’re my brother! How
could
you treat poor Blanche so shabbily and then have the effrontery to award yourself deceitful laurels! You’re
despicable
, and your wretched coaches are despicable too! I hope the Nonpareil trounces you on Midsummer Day, because after this you most certainly don’t deserve to win!’

Stung, he rose angrily to his feet. ‘And what would you know about coaching, madam? Coaching is men’s business, and women would do better to confine themselves to embroidery and fripperies, which feeble items would seem more suited to their lesser intellects!’

She eyed him with equal anger. ‘I notice you choose to forget my remarks concerning your conduct toward Blanche, and reply instead
only
on your coaching! You’re an insect, Henry Derwent. And as to coaching being men’s business, I wonder you can say that when there exist women like Mrs Mountain of the Saracen’s Head and Mrs Nelson of the Bull Inn. If my lesser female intellect is serving me correctly, they happen to be coach proprietors of considerable standing, their success being viewed with some envy by their male counterparts. Pour
that
unpalatable draft in your glass and drink it, sirrah!’

He was so angry that words fought for a place on his lips, but then he flung down his napkin and strode from the room, slamming the door behind him. Jane picked up his plate, in half a mind to hurl it after him, but perhaps the breakfast room door didn’t warrant such punishment. She put the plate down again. Men! They were so arrogantly convinced they were superior! Oh, to bring him down a peg or two! She’d
dearly
like to teach him a lesson he’d never forget! But how, that was the problem.

She’d calmed down a little, but was still deeply angry, when that afternoon she set off in her open landau with Blanche and their maids to attend the exhibition at the Hanover Square Rooms. Wearing an unbuttoned
emerald
green silk spencer over a white lawn gown, her little hat adorned with emerald green aigrettes, she showed commendable restraint as she listened to Blanche extolling Henry’s many nonexistent virtues. It was very difficult to bite back the truth about his jaunt to Brighton, but bite it back she did, since Blanche was so evidently still in love with him, Duke of Dursley or no Duke of Dursley.

Blanche wore blue and cream, the poke brim of her dainty bonnet
casting
a shadow over her face. She was light-hearted and in excellent spirits, her choice of future husband having apparently been more than vindicated by the valor he’d shown risking his very life in the searing heat of the
conflagration
.

Jane listened to it all without divulging a word of the real tale, but it was with an almost superhuman effort that she continued to remain silent when the landau passed a sandwich man hired by Henry to stroll around with an
advertisement about the merits of the Iron Duke and the failings of the Nonpareil. Henry could so effortlessly find the time to attend to things like that, but he couldn’t stir himself to remember the annual grand ball which was the highlight of his poor fiancée’s social calendar!

Hanover Square was the oldest of the Mayfair squares, with its center neatly laid out in a railed garden crossed by gravel paths, and there were lamps set at intervals along the railing so that at night the garden was
prettily
illuminated. The surrounding houses were mostly of a uniform red brick, all of them gracious and elegant, but there was one in particular which attracted Jane’s attention the moment the landau turned into the square. It occupied a prime position on the northern side, and was the town residence of Lewis, Lord Ardenley.

It was a long, three-storied building, its roof surmounted by a handsome stone balustrade, and its main entrance was in the narrow lane alongside, connecting the square with busy Oxford Street beyond. The entrance boasted a splendid columned porch, large enough for carriages to halt beneath in order to set down passengers without exposing them to vagaries of the weather, and beside this porch there was an immense bow window of such magnificent design and proportions that it was much admired by all who saw it. As Jane looked, a dark red barouche entered the lane from Oxford Street, halting beneath the porch. It was Alicia’s carriage. Jane looked quickly away.

The assembly rooms stood in the southeast corner of the square, and were a fashionable venue for concerts, lectures, exhibitions, and
subscription
balls. As the landau halted and Jane and Blanche alighted, leaving the maids seated where they were, Jane noticed a man pinning a bill to the board by the main door. Thinking it must be an announcement concerning forthcoming events at the rooms, she went to read it. But it wasn’t anything to do with the rooms, it was about the sale of a stagecoach business.