Nina Coombs Pykare (8 page)

They made small talk for a few minutes, and then Penelope said, “I believe some fresh air would do us good. Shall we take a turn in the garden?”

Mama looked about to protest. But it was only a small courtyard garden. And Dezzie and the duke would be out there together, so she remained silent.

Ravenworth did not speak to Licia till they had reached the little garden. The late April sun was warm on her face, but her heart was cold. For up there in the quiet of her bedchamber she had come to a chilling realization.

“Well, now,” said Penelope with false cheerfulness, “I shall just take the youngsters over there to admire the daffodils.” And herding them before her, she left Licia to her fate.

Ravenworth turned to her immediately. “Penelope is acting strangely again. What is wrong?”

Licia twisted her handkerchief in nervous fingers. How was she to say this? “Nothing is wrong. At least, not exactly.”

The duke sighed. “Then why did Penelope leave us alone in this obvious fashion?”

There was no help for it. She would have to press on. Dezzie’s future lay in her hands. “Mama .
.
. Dezzie .
.
. that is .
.
. we need your help.”

He took one of her trembling hands in his own. “You know I should be glad to help you in any way I can.”

“Yes, yes. I know.” She withdrew her fingers. How could she think with her hand in his? “As you suggested last evening, Dezzie has a decided
tendre
for your nephew.”

He nodded. “Yes, and he has fixed his interest on her. Nothing amiss there.”

She sighed. “I’m afraid there is. Mama will not allow Lockwood’s courtship.”

“Because she wants your sister to land a bigger fish?”

“Yes, in fact”—it had to be said—”she wants her to land you.”

Apparently the thought had not previously occurred to him. His expression was one of stunned amazement. “Me?”

“Yes, your grace. And as long as you are—available— Mama will not allow Dezzie another suitor.”

“But I have no interest in marriage. I have said so repeatedly.”

“Mama hears only what fits her plans. She expects Dezzie to snare you.”

His frown was frightening. “That woman! Well, she’ll just be disappointed. It will never happen.”

Licia nodded. “Of course. But Mama is so difficult to dissuade, and Dezzie is much afraid of losing your nephew.”

“What a bumble broth. And all because your Mama cannot be made to listen to reason.”

She had no desire to defend Mama. “I know. But Dezzie has come up with a plan.”

“Dezzie!”

“Yes, I know. She is scatterbrained. But it is a good plan.”

His sigh was deep and heartfelt. “So I collect I must hear it.”

“Dezzie thinks—and so do I—that if you were to fix your interest on some other young woman, escort her about, and appear to court her
,
Mama might be brought to accept the truth.” There, she had said it, and she did not feel in the least better.

His eyebrow rose. “I see. But this admirable plan has one fatal flaw.”

“It has?” She could not think what it could be, but she was glad to hear of it.

“Indeed. As you know, I don’t hold with the institution of marriage. If I fix my interest on some young woman, she should ultimately be disappointed. Don’t you think it cruel to raise her hopes and then dash them?”

She saw a glimmer of light. If he would not do it, she might still have his company. “I .
.
. I had not considered that.”

“I’ve no desire to have some outraged mama after me.” He frowned thoughtfully. “However, the plan does have merit.”

“It does?”

“Yes. And I believe I see a way to put it into action.”

Her heart fell again. She was going to lose him. “What is it?”

“There is one young woman who could fill the part. And she would not be hurt because she would be in on the secret from the start.”

Her mind was a confused whirl. Who was this woman he could trust so? “P-Penelope?” she stammered.

“Oh, no. That would never wash.” He regarded her soberly. “I am thinking of you.”

“Me!” She sank down on a nearby bench, joy and fear mingling in her breast in a whirlwind of confusion.

He settled beside her. “Of course, it would mean much turbulence from your mama. But I believe we could convince her.”

“We might. She . . . she has already chastised me for wasting your time.”

He frowned. “Wasting?”

“Yes, because I talked with you when she wished you to be occupied with Dezzie.”

He frowned fiercely. “She will have to learn. So, are you willing?”

“I am willing. But, your grace, I am not young and beautiful. Will the ton believe .
.
.
”

He smiled at her in a way that quite weakened her knees. “They will believe,” he promised. “I shall dance constant attendance on you. Act besotted with love. Practically live in your pocket.” He paused. “But you—can you convince the world of your affection for me?”

Thank God he need never know her pretense would be no pretense at all. “I have never been good at lying, your grace. But I shall certainly try. For Dezzie’s sake.”

“Good.” He took her hand once more in his. “Then the bargain is sealed.”

He got to his feet and pulled her up. “Come, my dear. First we’ll instruct the others in their parts. Then we’ll return to the house and commence our campaign.”

And Licia, hardly knowing whether to laugh or cry, allowed him to lead her to the others.

Chapter Seven

Mama and Hortense were sipping tea. Mama stared rather pointedly over her teacup as the group seated itself. Then she fastened her falsely charming smile on the duke. “Your grace, last night the Duchess of Oldenburgh—such a charming woman—she was telling me about this actor. Mr. Kemble is his name. It seems he does Hamlet. And she says he’s most enjoyable to watch. Have you seen him?”

Ravenworth didn’t even raise an eyebrow, though by now he must be quite conversant with Mama’s tricks. “Yes, of course, Mrs. Dudley. All London knows of him. I myself prefer Kean, the new man at Drury Lane. But Kemble is very good at what he does.”

Mama sighed. “My poor Dezzie has been so long denied these fine performances. If only she had some nice gentleman to escort her to the theater.”

“I—” Lockwood stopped and rubbed the arm the duke had surreptitiously pinched. “That is, Mr. Kemble is very good. He has much dignity of expression.”

For all the attention Mama paid him, the viscount might as well have remained silent. “Yes.” Mama sighed again. “I am sure Dezzie would like to see this wondrous play.”

Licia swallowed a sigh of her own. How could Mama be so obvious? In spite of all the duke knew about her, it was acutely embarrassing.

And then Ravenworth’s eyes met hers—and they were twinkling. He was actually enjoying this!

Mama beamed and Aunt Hortense frowned, but Licia just sat there, thinking. He would probably begin his campaign at the play. How long would it take them to convince Mama that her plans were useless? Probably a long time.

The rush of pleasure this thought brought her was quite disconcerting. No matter how long Ravenworth paid court to her, the end result would be the same. Dezzie would have the viscount. And her sister would have no one.

Still, she’d never been one to snivel, and she would not begin now. If all she was to have was this pretend courtship, she would enjoy every precious second of it.

“As soon as possible,” Mama was saying. “I am dying to see this divine man.”

“Shall we say Friday next?” Ravenworth inquired. “I believe that will be his next performance of the melancholy Dane.”

When Mama nodded, he got to his feet. “Come, Lockwood, we must be off. We’ve things to attend to.”

The viscount rose dutifully and bent to kiss Dezzie’s hand. Then, to Licia’s surprise, Ravenworth bent to hers. The touch of his lips on her fingers sent little whispers of delight shivering over her. And when he looked into her eyes and smiled, she thought her heart would melt and run right out her fingertips.

“I shall be seeing you soon,” he said. And there was such promise in his voice that she was hard put to remember that this was all acting on his part.

She knew she was blushing as she replied, “I shall look forward to it, your grace
.
” She watched him leave, and her heart beat more rapidly. In his bottle-green coat and fawn inexpressibles he was surely the most magnificent man in London.

The door had barely closed behind him when Dorothea erupted. “Delicia Marie Dudley! Wipe that ridiculous smirk off your face! You are not going anywhere. When the duke arrives to take us to the theater, you will be ill.”

“Dorothea!” Plainly Aunt Hortense could contain herself no longer. “It is you who is being ridiculous.”

Mama bristled but Aunt Hortense hurried on. “Licia is not going to sit at home alone just because you have some addlepated notion in your head.”

Mama pouted. “She’s an ungrateful daughter. And I’m most unhappy with her.”

Licia heard the hard words, but they did not penetrate her heart. At that moment nothing could hurt her. She was still basking in the glow of Ravenworth’s smile.

“Aunt Dorothea, what bits of London gossip did you overhear last night?” Penelope was obviously trying to introduce a less sensitive subject. And she proved successful.

Mama’s pout disappeared. “The dear duchess—you know, she stayed by me all evening, and she said the most glowing things concerning Dezzie’s come-out. Well, she had heard about this lady. I cannot recall her name. At any rate, this lady had taken up with one of those artist fellows. A sculptor, I think.”

Licia’s eyes went to Penelope. Her cousin had paled and was now staring resolutely at the wall, her hands rigid in her lap. Pray God she wouldn’t say something and give herself away.

Aunt Hortense straightened. “My word, some women have no sense of social consequence. An artist, you say. Why, an artist is lower than . . . than a Frenchman!”

Licia saw that Penelope was struggling with herself. If she spoke now, she might well give the whole thing away.

And so she herself spoke. “Dear aunt, I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“Understand what?”

“I thought you were most appreciative of Mr. Turner’s paintings.”

Aunt Hortense looked surprised. “I am, child. The man does such wonders. He’s a veritable genius.”

“Then why is an artistic person not fit company for a lady?”

Aunt Hortense smiled patiently. “My dear, talent and class do not necessarily go hand in hand. A lady must marry within her class.” She cast a glance at Mama whose pout showed signs of returning. “Or above it.”

“So a lady cannot marry a man of genius even though she might love him?”

Aunt Hortense’s smile was becoming strained. “Of course she cannot. Her family would disown her.”

“But, Aunt, what if he were an upright, honorable man?”

“That doesn’t signify.” Aunt Hortense was now frowning. “I hope that you or Dezzie are not considering such a scandalous thing.”

Here, at least, Licia could be truthful. “Of course not, Aunt. Neither of us have any such inclination.”

“Good. I should hope not. Penelope, where are you going?”

Penelope paused in the doorway. “I find that I am still fatigued from last night
,
Mama. It was such a brilliant party. So I thought I might lie down for a while before dinner.”

Licia got to her feet. “I, too, have some things to attend to in my room. If you’ll excuse me . . .”

Aunt Hortense nodded. “Run along. Don’t know what’s wrong with young people these days. No stamina. Why, in my time .
.
.
”

* * * *

“Thank you,” said Penelope when they had reached the safety of her room. “I thought I should explode! Harry is such a wonderful man. And just because he is a commoner, our love is doomed. Oh, Licia, what shall I do?”

Licia shook her head. “I simply do not know. Aunt Hortense seems quite firm.” She sighed. “I believe I understand you when you speak about being happy anywhere with him. But there is something to what your mama says too. You must have shelter—food and clothing.”

Penelope’s laughter held no amusement. “Look at me, Licia. I am a plain woman. Not ugly, perhaps, but plain. And I do not care. I do not need—or even want—fine gowns and furnishings. Why, I wager that Harry and I could live comfortably for an entire year on the cost of that one atrocious gown. All I need is Harry’s love.”

She drew herself up. “Since it appears that Mama will never give in, I shall have to prevail on Harry. I do not intend to give him up.” She pressed a hand to her temple. “But now I am afraid I do have the headache. And I am supposed to see him this afternoon.”

“Do you think perhaps you go too often to the gallery?”

“Perhaps. I don’t know. But I cannot go like this.” She sank down on the chaise. “He will see my distress and it will pain him.”

She clasped Licia’s hand. “Could you carry a note to Harry for me?”

“I? Go to the gallery? But how shall I get away? And what about Dezzie? If I go out, she will want to come along. And you know she can’t keep a secret.”

Penelope groaned. “Oh, this headache is abominable. I really cannot think. Please, Cousin, I know you can manage it. Just get my note to him.”

Licia sighed. She did not want to go out. Even less did she want to be the bearer of clandestine notes. If Aunt Hortense discovered her doing such a thing, she might well take Mama’s part and exile such an ungrateful young woman from their theater excursion.

But Penelope was looking at her with pleading eyes. And how should she feel if Ravenworth really loved her and she were in a similar situation? There was no doubt in her mind that if the roles were reversed, Penelope would undertake such a mission. And so she surrendered to the inevitable. “Very well.”

“Oh, thank you.” Penelope rose and hurried to her rosewood desk. “It will be a short note.”

* * * *

A short time later Licia descended the great stairs. The note was safely tucked away in her reticule, but she was not yet sure what she would say.