A Sisterly Regard (4 page)

"Of course, dear. Just remember to take Betty with you, for I
need your sister's help to hem her primrose gown."

Phaedra and Betty strolled along the streets toward Green Park.
Although she wished Betty were more inclined to stride along at a good
pace, Phaedra was content just to be out of doors. "Phew. I almost wish I
did not have to breathe," she said, wrinkling her nose. "How do you stand
the odors, Betty?"

The young maid who had come with the house raised her brows
in puzzlement. "Odors, miss? I don't smell nothing out of the ordinary."
She sniffed. "Well, maybe a sort of moldy, nasty smell, but that's
all."

"That's damp earth," Phaedra told her, shaking her head in
defeat. Perhaps the denizens of London were so used to the scents of horse
and smoke and the other, less pleasant, odors of humanity crowded
densely together that they never noticed.

Once in the park, she said, "If you would prefer to rest here on
this bench, you may. I intend to get some exercise."

Betty sat, with a grateful smile. "It feels good to sit, miss. The
sun's so nice and warm."

Phaedra made two energetic circuits of the park before her need
for activity was satisfied. As she returned to the bench to retrieve her
maid, she spied a group of half a dozen stylish gentlemen approaching on
an intersecting path.

One of them, a rotund fellow in a too-tight coat and trousers far
better suited to a smaller man, peered at Betty through a silver-rimmed
quizzing glass. "Well, well. What have we here?"

Phaedra ignored him. "Come, Betty. It is time we were
returning." She tugged the girl to her feet, but before she could drag her
along the path, a second man stepped into her way.

"Housemaids, I imagine. Ripe for the plucking." His voice was
smooth, deep, and somehow hungry sounding.

Phaedra stepped around him, followed closely by the maid, who
offered no resistance and, in fact, hung on tightly.

A third man said, "Here now, don't run away. We won't harm
you." He blocked the path with outspread arms.

"No indeed," the first promised with a giggle. "We are harmless
gentlemen. Wouldn't hurt a fly." General laughter agreed with him.

Dodging around a shrub at a half run, Phaedra and Betty almost
collided with a tall man.

Instead of stepping aside, he caught Phaedra by the wrist. "Hold
there. What are you running from?"

She recoiled. He was older than the others and dressed to the
nines. "Release me, sir, if you please." Instead he captured her other wrist
and soon had them manacled between long, strong fingers.

The other men caught up. "Ah, Dervigne, you caught our little
housemaids. Good man!" The speaker slipped his arm around Betty's
waist. "Give us a kiss then, sweetling." He bent his head.

Betty squealed, a sound that was abruptly cut off as the man
kissed her.

"Let go of her!" Phaedra tried to wrench herself free, but the
older man had a grip of iron. As the men surrounded her and Betty, she
felt real terror. "I am a lady, sir. She is my maid. You have no
right--"

"A lady? Dressed that way? Not likely," the deep-voiced one
said. "Here, Dervigne, I'll take her."

Her captor appeared to study her features. "No, I think she's
telling the truth." He pulled Phaedra closer, ignoring her struggles. "A
toll, then, and I'll release you."

As his face approached hers, Phaedra gave up trying to wrench
her hands free and kicked out instead. Her foot connected with his
shin.

"Damn you!" He released her.

"Run, Betty," Phaedra cried, swinging her reticule at her maid's
captor. It hit him full in the face. Betty took to her heels, with Phaedra
right behind.

Fear leant strength and speed to their flight. Although several of
the men pursued them with laughter and cries of 'view halloo', she and
Betty emerged from the park before they could catch up. Once among the
crowds on a busy street, Phaedra looked back. The men were standing at
the park's edge, laughing together.

Both girls walked rapidly along the street, with frequent glances
over their shoulders. At last Phaedra found her voice. "We are only a
block from home. I will be perfectly safe. Go on ahead. I will be along in a
few moments."

Betty gave her a tremulous smile. "Thank you, miss. I was that
scared, I couldn't move."

"So was I. Go now, and try to avoid being seen until you've
tidied yourself." Phaedra watched the maid duck into the servants'
entrance as she walked more slowly, needing time for the shaking of her
hands and the butterflies in her stomach to subside. When Edgemont
opened the door, all signs of her fright and her flight were well hidden,
and she was able to give him a bright smile as she commented upon how
exhilarating her walk had been.

* * * *

Two weeks after their arrival in London, the Hazelbourne ladies
returned from a brief shopping trip to find a note awaiting them from
Lord Gifford's aunt, the Duchess of Verbain. It announced her arrival in
Town and contained an invitation to call the next morning. Chloe was
excited, because she took the invitation as the first step in her successful
Season. Phaedra was less so, because she still dreaded the next few
months. She remembered the Duchess as a commanding, regal woman,
having no patience with girlish high spirits.

Their Graces' home in Portman Square was imposing, as was the
Duchess. Even Chloe was subdued as they entered and were divested of
their outer garments. The Duchess, stern faced as ever, embraced Lady
Gifford with affection, then turned to her daughters. She looked them up
and down through a quizzing glass, her haughty stare made even more
intimidating by the magnification of one faded blue eye.

"Well, now, you've grown into passable looking chits, I must
say. The last time I saw you must have been four or five years ago. You'd
spots and freckles, flyaway hair, and no bosoms. But you'll do now, I
think. No beauty, but passable, quite passable."

Her mother's quick glance stifled the imprudent reply on
Chloe's lips.

Her Grace continued, "Now which of you is which? I used to
tell you apart, but you've grown to be amazingly like one another. Well,
speak up gels, which is which?"

Lady Gifford quickly made the introductions, and both girls
curtsied politely. The Duchess nodded curtly and snapped her fingers
behind her back. "Come here, Mary, and become reacquainted with the
Hazelbourne gels."

Chloe remembered The Duchess' granddaughter, Lady Mary
Follansbee, as a quiet, shy little girl with enormous green eyes and a mass
of freckles marring her face. On their rare visits to Verbain, she had never
entered into their play, but had clung to her mother's skirts. The slender
young woman with strawberry blond hair who came to stand beside the
Duchess was clear of skin and lovely enough to arouse a small pang of envy
in Chloe's bosom.

"Now you gels go over there in the corner and get to know one
another again. I want to talk to Isabella."

Lady Mary smiled and said, "Do not let Grandmama put you off.
Her bark is ever so much worse than her bite." She led Phaedra and Chloe
to a cozy corner where four chairs were set in a comfortable grouping. "I
do hope we will become great friends. I envied you so when we were
small. You seemed to have such fun. I often wondered what it would be
like to not be a lady, for just one afternoon."

"I disliked you intensely," Chloe admitted. "Mama always told
us that we should learn to behave as you did, in a ladylike manner."

"Perhaps you can teach me to have fun, now. I would like
that."

Lady Mary's smile was so entreating and so sweet that Chloe
could not resist returning it. "And perhaps you can be a good example for
me. I still sometimes forget I am supposed to be a lady."

"I would rather you would show us London," Phaedra said. "So
far all I've seen is shops and parks."

"Oh, I wish I could, but I am a stranger here, too. We must
endeavor to explore it together. Now, tell me what you have been up to
since we last met. You have grown so much alike. You are Phaedra and
you are Chloe, is that right?"

"No, I am Chloe," she said with a laugh. "Phaedra is the serious
one. I am never serious."

"Why are you serious, Phaedra?"

"What calumny. Just because I would rather collect and study
plants than peruse
La Belle Asemblee
, my frivolous sister calls me
serious." It was an old and affectionate dissention, one both she and Chloe
had long indulged in. "Chloe merely flits about and never does anything
practical. She sings well, though, so she is not entirely useless."

"Unfair!" her sister cried. "Just because I am more interested in
parties and dancing than I am in scholarly pursuits!" All three girls
laughed.

Their conversation was interrupted by the entrance of the
butler, announcing Mr. Reginald Farwell.

The gentleman paused in the doorway, his wavy, golden brown
hair, styled in an extreme Brutus, barely clearing the opening. He was
dressed in the height of fashion, with collar points up to his cheeks and a
lavender cravat folded into an intricate pattern and pinned with an
enormous sapphire. His royal blue coat with enormous silver buttons
looked as if it had been assembled directly upon his body. It partially
concealed a waistcoat of extravagant stripes of scarlet and purple. Yellow
pantaloons fitted snugly over long, slim, but well-shaped legs, and any
number of fobs hung from his waistcoat. His shoes had narrow red heels
all of two inches in height. Deep-set gray eyes were outlined by the
longest, thickest lashes Chloe had ever seen. He coolly scrutinized the
assembled ladies through an ornate quizzing glass. The other hand held a
lacy handkerchief.

At last he moved, strolling languidly across the room. "Ah, your
Grace, I find you as beautiful as ever," he said in a pleasant baritone drawl
as he bowed over the Duchess' hand.

"Piffle," she responded. "Reggie, you know Mary. Let me make
you acquainted with Lady Gifford and her daughters, Miss Hazelbourne
and Miss Phaedra Hazelbourne."

"Lady Gifford, I believe we met some years past, but to be in
your charming company is always pleasing to me," he said, lifting her hand
to his lips in quite the most elegant gesture Chloe had ever seen. "And
Lady Mary, you are, as always, the most perfect pocket Venus of my
acquaintance," he continued, with a graceful bow in her direction.

Lady Mary merely smiled and said, "Hullo Reggie."

Turning in the sisters' direction he again raised his glass. Silently
he inspected them, obviously paying close attention to their fashionable
walking gowns as well as to their physical appearance. Chloe contained her
irritation at being so closely inspected. She simpered and looked coyly at
him from beneath lowered lashes. Her sister, clearly resenting his
scrutiny, lifted her chin and glared at him. Finally he spoke vaguely to the
space between them. "Miss Hazelbourne and Miss Phaedra, one of you
would be ravishing; the two of you together is nothing short of
breathtaking."

Chloe smiled widely and gave him her hand. He bowed over it,
his lips not quite touching it, and murmured, "Such charm. Such style. I
am overwhelmed. You are the elder, I take it."

"I am, sir, and am most pleased to make your acquaintance. You
are the first gentleman whom I have met in London." Chloe cast a melting
look into his face.

He turned to Phaedra and she grudgingly extended her hand.
Chloe would have pinched her if she could have done so surreptitiously.
Again he bowed, elegantly, gracefully. "Disapproval, Miss Phaedra? Or
shyness? You interest me." He received no response, nor did he seem to
expect one.

For the next several minutes, the conversation was general. Mr.
Farwell shared several gossipy tidbits with them, mentioning names Chloe
had often seen in the
Gazette
. Her mother and the Duchess
laughed with him at tittle-tattle that held little meaning for Chloe. She
decided he was someone to cultivate, however, because he seemed so
completely at home in the
ton
.

Eventually her mother signaled that it was time for their
departure. As Chloe and Lady Mary were finalizing their plans to meet in
the park the next afternoon, Mr. Farwell stepped between her and her
sister.

Phaedra took a half step back as Mr. Farwell loomed over her.
He was so very tall. Somehow he had separated her from everyone else in
the room. Leaning slightly towards her, he murmured, "Were you
refreshed by your exercise the other day, Miss Phaedra?"

She stared.

"A good dash across the park is so invigorating, is it not? You did
run quite a distance, however, and I feared you might have been quite
exhausted." His eyes gleamed with amusement.

Oh, no! Of all people to see me. Oh, well, there is no help for
it.
"I had grown quite stiff and sleepy from sitting that day. Do you
not feel that a good run often clears away the cobwebs and invigorates
one?"

"Quite, Miss Phaedra. Quite." His smile faded and the drawl
was suddenly missing, although his voice remained nearly inaudible. "A
word of warning, however. In the future, you might consider your
appearance before stepping out of doors. Had you appeared more the lady
of quality, that small contretemps might have been avoided."

Before she could do more than gape, he stepped away and spoke
to the Duchess.

Torn between anger at his impudence and embarrassment that
he had evidently seen the entire episode, Phaedra resolved to ignore him
as much as possible in the future.

The Duchess's parting words enhanced her resolve. "Pay no
attention to this fop. He fancies himself God's gift to the fashionable
world. Reggie, do you amuse Mary with your piffle while I have one last
word with Lady Gifford. Now, Isabella," she continued, "you will be
ready to begin going out by Monday next, will you not? Wednesday we go
to Almack's. I have the vouchers for all of us.