She had not seen him save for a glimpse of him and Lady Clorinda in the park. No notice of their engagement appeared in the papers, and Henrietta wondered at it. A little voice in her head insisted there might still be hope, but Henrietta stamped down these thoughts. While Colonel Colchester continued to call on Lady Fuddlesby, the duke had remained absent.
* * * *
In Park Lane, for his part the duke was becoming increasingly irritated with himself. He spent his days working out his frustrations at Gentleman Jackson’s and dining with his godfather. He noted, a trifle guiltily, Colonel Colchester frequently wore a disapproving frown. The older man had tried to
glean Giles’s feelings regarding Miss Lanford and had been snapped at for his trouble.
Occasionally the duke escorted the fair Clorinda for a drive, but he found her charms now seemed overblown. Nevertheless, being seen in her company kept other misses at bay, so he did not cease this small attention to her.
At night, a fever gripped his body. A fever for the sweet taste of Miss Lanford’s innocent lips. The soft, soft feel of her skin.
As these thoughts took over his mind, the duke tossed restlessly in his bed. Matters were not helped by Sir Polly Grey’s untimely utterance of a snippet of the old duke’s marriage lecture. “Hips good for breeding,” the parrot insisted.
Deuce take it! Perhaps he should acquire a mistress. Then he scowled horribly when this plan produced no real spark of interest or anticipation.
The duke had only seen Miss Lanford once in the park in the past week. A giant of a man had been driving her. Discreet inquiries gained Giles the knowledge Mr. Edmund Shire was a well-to-do landowner. Just the sort he had initially thought Miss Lanford would be lucky to attract when he met her at her parents’ estate.
He decided he needed to see the girl again. Maybe this spell she had him under would disintegrate in the harsh face of reality. Lady Chatterton, Mr. Shire’s aunt, was holding a musicale in two days’ time. Giles was confident Miss Lanford would attend. Punching his pillow for the hundredth time that night before resting his tired head upon it, he decided he would go and see that Miss Lanford possessed no magical charm.
* * *
“Here it ees, madame. Jacques has made an identical paste copy of your pink tourmaline ring,” Felice stated, setting two small boxes side by side on the toilet table in Lady Fuddlesby’s bedchamber. Glancing down with a look of distaste at Knight, who was watching the proceedings, Felice opened each box and exclaimed, “Voila! No one can tell the deeference, but you know the genuine ees in the black velvet box and the fake ees in the blue satin.”
Attired in a pink wrapper and prepared for bed, Lady Fuddlesby stared down at the identical-looking rings lying on their sides in the boxes. She picked up the paste copy and examined the stone set in the heavy, intricate setting carefully. “Oh, indeed, the rings appear just alike. I confess I feel quite clever having thought of this way of meeting my financial needs and satisfying my sentimental memories of dear Viscount Fuddlesby. This ring will serve its purpose admirably. I shall pretend to myself it is the original one.”
Felice smiled at her mistress. “It ees noble of you, madame, to make this sacrifice for the young lady.”
“Nonsense!” Lady Fuddlesby replied mistily, placing the ring back in its box. She picked up a sealed letter. “Felice, I have written a note to Lord Mawbly telling him he may come around tomorrow and collect the ring. See that a footman delivers it this night.”
Lady Fuddlesby handed the missive to her maid. “Now I will have the necessary funds and can put everything in motion regarding Henrietta’s ball. No expense shall be spared! I will tell the dear girl all about my plans tomorrow after Lord Mawbly leaves.”
“She ees sure to be thrilled, madame,” Felice declared before leaving the room to find a footman.
Lady Fuddlesby bent to scratch behind Knight’s ears. “Why, my darling boy, your fur is raised! Whatever is the matter? Goodness, you will do yourself a mischief!”
Her ladyship continued to stroke her cat’s ruffled fur. He is probably upset because I am selling the ring to the Mawblys, Lady Fuddlesby thought. Knight is such a high stickler! I know he cannot have forgotten the atrocious insult Hester Mawbly uttered the other day in the park.
Lady Fuddlesby’s mind ran over the events. She had taken the cat out for an airing on the warm spring day. He sat tall and proud on the seat beside her in the open carriage, green eyes in his black mask taking in the Mayfair sights. She noticed, with affection, his nose and whiskers twitched in obvious interest at the varied odors carried by the breeze.
Lady Mawbly’s carriage had drawn up beside them during a pause in the drive. The ladies exchanged greetings, but then Lady Mawbly had pointed her fan at Knight with a screech, exclaiming, “I must drive on, Clara. I detest cats.”
Now Lady Fuddlesby clucked her tongue remembering Knight’s outraged feline expression. She soothed, “Calm down, dear boy, and come to bed. It is late and I find generosity can be quite tiring. You must forget that ninnyhammer Hester Mawbly. She lacks good breeding.”
Her ladyship climbed into bed and drew the pink coverlet up around her snugly. Knight settled down at the foot of the bed, a stubborn expression on his face.
Soon her ladyship’s gentle snore could be heard in the darkened room. The black and white cat cast a quick look at his mistress before jumping down from the bed and slinking over to the toilet table. Despite his weight, he hopped up onto the surface silently, his paws landing expertly without disturbing anything.
He appeared to study the boxes containing the rings lying open in front of him, his head tilted speculatively. Suddenly a paw, with claws extended, reached in the black velvet box and removed the genuine ring. Knight dropped it aside, where it made a light metallic sound on the table’s top. The cat turned his head sharply toward his mistress, but Lady Fuddlesby continued to snore.
Knight stretched his paw into the blue satin box, adroitly removed the paste copy, and dropped it into the black velvet box. The genuine ring was batted up and into the blue satin box, where the paste had rested a few moments before.
Apparently satisfied with this piece of chicanery, the rascal returned to the bed and fell instantly to sleep.
* * * *
The next afternoon Lady Fuddlesby was none the wiser when she innocently turned the paste copy over to Lord Mawbly for a large sum of money.
Lord Mawbly, however, had acquired many jewels for his greedy wife over the years. He knew at once the ring was paste. Being a very timid man, he could not bring himself to confront Lady Fuddlesby with his knowledge. Instead, he pondered the problem during the carriage ride home. Luckily, he had not told Lady Mawbly he had been successful in striking a bargain with Lady Fuddlesby, so he would not have to deal with his wife right away.
But what was he going to do? His brow creased with concentration, until the solution struck him. The Duke of Winterton! He would turn the matter over to his daughter’s beau. The man’s godfather was on good terms with Lady Fuddlesby, and they were certain to know how to proceed. Tonight, at Lady Chatterton’s musicale, he would tell the duke everything.
Chapter Nine
While Felice put the finishing touches to Henrietta’s coiffure, a housemaid scratched at the door. Entering the room, she bobbed a curtsy and said, “Miss, her ladyship wishes to see you in her bedchamber when you’re ready.”
“Thank you, Sally.” Henrietta dismissed the maid and turned to study Felice’s face reflected in the cheval glass. The woman worked expertly with a length of amber-colored ribbon.
Since sleeping through Lord Baddick’s attack, the Frenchwoman seemed in low spirits. Surmising the lady’s maid felt guilty over her lack of assistance, Henrietta had tried to reassure her all had turned out well, but the woman’s manner remained despondent.
Now Henrietta looked at the glossy curls Felice had coaxed, and complimented her. “As usual, you have worked wonders with my hair, Felice. You are a treasure.”
Felice’s lips stretched in a small smile. “Thank you, mees. You look beautiful in that amber gown. The color sets off your dark hair, and the cut shows your figure to advantage. Let me put these amber beads about your neck, and then you can go to her ladyship.”
Henrietta smiled her thanks before rising, shaking out her skirts and making her way down to her aunt’s bedchamber. She found the lady, attired in a raspberry silk gown, seated at a desk, writing out what looked to be some sort of list.
“Good evening, my lady. Sally said you wanted to see me before we leave for Lady Chatterton’s musicale,” Henrietta said, dropping a kiss on her aunt’s rouged cheek.
She walked over to a pink chaise nearby the desk, where Knight stretched out languidly. Sitting down next to him, she stroked his white back, and the cat rewarded her with a throaty purr for her efforts.
Lady Fuddlesby put down her pen and gazed at her niece with an excited expression on her plump features. “Oh, my dear Henrietta. I have the most delightful news for you! You will be in transports when you hear it, just as I am.”
Henrietta tilted her head in a questioning manner, a crease forming across her ivory brow. “What is it, Aunt? Is the Prince Regent to attend tonight’s musicale?” she teased.
“What? Oh, my dear, you are bamming me,” Lady Fuddlesby replied, and chuckled. Then, as a thought seemed to take hold in her ladyship’s mind, she said, “Although now you have mentioned him, I wonder if I should include Prinny on the invitation list.”
“Invitation list? Are we to have an entertainment of our own?”
“Yes.” Lady Fuddlesby’s pale blue eyes lit with anticipation. She clapped her hands with evident relish. “Henrietta, I am planning to hold a ball in your honor! All the best people will attend, we shall have champagne, perhaps flowing from a little
fountain. Yes, that would be elegant, and oh, masses of hothouse flowers, and ...”
Henrietta bit her lip in dismay. She contemplated whether or not she deserved such special treatment after her improper behavior since her arrival in Town, first at the Denbys’ and then at Almack’s. In addition, there had been the whole ill-judged relationship with Lord Baddick, and its shocking consequences. She did not think her performance in Town thus far merited such generosity.
She heard Lady Fuddlesby rambling on about Gunter’s catering and their delicious lobster patties, and felt the cat’s body underneath her hand heave a sigh. Henrietta began her protest, “I do not know—”
“Oh, indeed, dear, Gunters is who everyone uses, and we could not expect Mrs. Pottsworth to prepare all the food that we shall require,” Lady Fuddlesby argued, misunderstanding her niece’s words.
Agitated, Henrietta rose and stepped over to stand in front of the desk. “No, it is not that, dear lady. While I appreciate your kindness, I am certain whatever Town parties we attend will serve the purpose of introducing me to eligible gentlemen. I simply feel a ball would be a great expense, and perhaps unnecessary.”
Henrietta felt uncomfortable bringing up the matter of the cost, but knew from different incidents her aunt’s pockets were not well lined. While Lady Fuddlesby was no lickpenny, Henrietta had noticed when her aunt had refused herself the purchase of a new bonnet, and had appeared worried after a mysterious visit from her solicitor.
But Lady Fuddlesby brushed the matter of expense aside in a curious way. “Nonsense, my dear. I just received that roll of soft from Lord—”
Here the lady interrupted herself and, with a fluttering of hands, rose from her seat and abruptly changed the course of the conversation. “Henrietta! What can you mean when you say a ball will be ‘unnecessary’? Naturally, every young lady must have a ball in her honor. Why, I have been remiss in not planning one for you before now. All you need think of is what to wear. I believe the ball gown of white silk with the lace overdress Madame Dupre made up will serve. And since it will be a special occasion, I do not see where it would be improper for me to loan you a small diamond necklet.”
Lady Fuddlesby chattered on, all the while gathering her reticule and a pretty Norwich shawl. Henrietta realized her aunt’s mind was set on the subject of a ball, and she assumed an expression of enthusiasm far from her true feelings. Restraining a sigh, she allowed herself to be led downstairs to the drawing room.
* * * *
Knight trailed the ladies downstairs, and when they entered the drawing room, he stared curiously at the stranger.
Mr. Edmund Shire rose from the brocade sofa and greeted them in his casual, unpretentious way. He wore a brown coat over tan breeches, and his cravat was tied in a simple style. Seeing the cat, he ventured a friendly “Here, kitty, kitty.”
Knight promptly turned around and left the room. His abrupt departure indicated clearly he was uninterested in anyone who would address him in this inane manner.
Mr. Shire cleared his throat at the rebuff and said, “Ladies, if you are ready, let us return to my aunt’s house. She wishes me at her side when the guests arrive.”
Henrietta restrained a smile at the look of apprehension with which the country gentleman made this statement. He was clearly not the type of man who was comfortable with Society, or its diversions, unlike the Duke of Winterton, who was ever elegant. The duke was well bred enough never to show unease, or any other emotion for that matter.
Perhaps that was not quite true, she reflected during the drive to Lady Chatterton’s. Mr. Shire monopolized a conversation with Lady Fuddlesby about a mutual acquaintance, leaving Henrietta to her musings. She remembered the duke had certainly forgotten himself the night at Almack’s when he shouted “minx” at her. And then, after rescuing her from Lord Baddick’s perfidy, there had been that kiss. A kiss that had left a burning imprint on her.
She fell into reliving the experience once again, recalling the ecstasy of being held against his strong body. As the carriage rolled along, her longing to see the duke intensified. Gazing out at the London streets, she wondered if she would be able to determine if any clue was to be had regarding his sentiments about her.