Althea (3 page)

After this outburst Sir Tracy settled even further into his
chair and attempted to regain his composure, allowing the dowager the safety to
speak.

“Truly, my dear, there is nothing so terribly odious about
marriage. I myself have been married, which I consider most fortunate, since
elsewise I should have had all Boskingram’s children illegitimately, which does
not increase one’s social consequence one jot.”

Sir Tracy let out a delighted chortle and reached forward to
take her hand. “Aunt Peg, if there is another woman like you in the world,
which I by no means believe, I might consider having some legitimate children
myself.”

“Have you any by-blows, Tracy?” Lady Boskingram asked
curiously.

“None that I am aware of, madam,” he said wickedly. “But at
any rate, I do not feel at present any pressing need to secure my immortality
at the expense of my freedom. I cannot see that I am at all called upon to
present an heir to the world. Since Amalia has been so obliging as to secure
the title for Boskingram’s offspring to the tune of three heirs, that makes me
fourth in line, and frankly I cannot feel at present that it would be any
service to add another to the line of prospective heirs to the earldom. I think
Amalia might let me go to the devil in my own way and content herself with
matchmaking her own boys when they are grown.”

“But only think, Tracy, Charles is seven, Frederick but
five, and George barely out of leading strings. So, long must Amalia wait until
even one of them becomes eligible for her matchmaking talents. You are a
godsend to her. Let her content herself just now with this unfruitful pastime —
it will not last long, I am sure, for I believe that Amalia is increasing
again
.
By the by, love, even if you were hanging out for a wife, which you have made
it abundantly clear you are not, you would certainly frighten off most
prospects with that tongue of yours!” With an expressive
moue
Lady
Boskingram rose stiffly from the brocade sofa and rang for Gergeley.

“You’d most certainly have my apologies, ma’am, had it not
been you who taught me all those inelegant and ineligible expressions years
ago. Amalia is increasing again? Good God, married but eight years and she and
my cousin already have six in the nursery. What can they be about?” The Dowager
Countess of Boskingram turned a mild gaze on her nephew and raised one eyebrow
expressively. The entrance of Gergeley forced him to compose himself under his
aunt’s ruthlessly amused eyes.

“Gergeley, I find I am shockingly famished. Will you see if
there is any way that dinner might be moved up just a trifle earlier tonight? I
am so rusticated of late that I fear we keep positively vicarage hours in the
country.”

“My lady, supposing this must be the case and that Sir Tracy
would find himself hungrier than usual due to his — er — exertions, I requested
Cook to have the meal ready earlier than usual.” Although Gergeley’s face
remained impassive, his manner suggested that he considered this a master stroke.
Lady Boskingram was sharp enough to give credit its due and ingratiate herself
with the butler.

“Gergeley, you are a prize above rubies. Perhaps you might
be so kind as to bring me a bit of sherry as well, for it has been a long day,
and I think I need fortification.”

Gergeley withdrew to return some minutes later with a
decanter and glasses.

“This was an excellent notion, Aunt. I own that Gergeley was
right as well. I am devilishly sharp set tonight, obviously due to what he
calls my exertions. You have piqued my curiosity now, you know, for I shall
probably go to my grave wondering who it was riding in that chaise.”

“Like as not you’ll know tomorrow, when the aggrieved
occupants arrive and lay claims against you. Probably some tradesman’s fat wife
returning from the spas,” retorted Lady Boskingram cheerfully.

“In any case, I won. It seemed a great deal more amusing to
reach Quinlan’s seat, return to London, and collect the fruits of my labor amid
general rejoicing than to stop and minister to my victims, as you so obligingly
designate them. I suppose I shall be haunted forever by the question of who it
was I ditched.” He yawned theatrically and passed a glass to Lady Boskingram.

“You have piqued
my
curiosity, Tracy. What is it that
Amalia has been throwing at your head to make you so shy of women? I should
have heard rumors had you started some great flirtation. I do hear these
things, you know.”

“I am firmly convinced that your spy network is even more
effective than Bonaparte’s. Amalia does not go in for perseverance; when she
sees that I have no interest in one female, she procures another nearly
identical in insipidity and narrowness, but fortunately, somewhat different
from her predecessor in looks. That way I am afforded at least a changing
prospect. I have toyed with the thought that perhaps Amalia keeps a store of
eligible young women in the cellar against a surprise visit by me. She works on
the principle, you see, that if she bombards me with hapless females, sooner or
later I shall capitulate out of sheer weariness.”

“I cannot believe that Richard would permit her to keep them
in the cellar, dearest — they would knock his port and claret about shockingly,
I am sure. When was the last instance of this bombardment? Surely the last time
you were at Bosk the notice was far too short for her to procure anyone
eligible, unless she truly had hidden someone in the cellar. What is wrong with
these girls, outside of their insipidity and narrowness?” Lady Boskingram eyed
her impatient nephew suspiciously as he shifted in his chair.

“Why should I shackle myself to some female I can barely
countenance? All these chits are well enough to look at, educated, as they call
it, and accomplished. (Lord, ma’am, but you’ve no idea how tired I am of
accomplished females!) But not one of them has a jot of, well, let us say, your
wit or charm, ma’am.”

The sally and the flirtatious grin that accompanied it were
unsuccessful: Lady Boskingram was not to be sidetracked. Tracy began again. “As
long as I’ve a comfortable establishment and some good friends —”

“Among the muslin set?” Lady Boskingram suggested
cheerfully.

“Friends with whom I can while away an idle hour,” Sir Tracy
finished quellingly “As long as my situation is comfortable, why should I
change for the stormy seas of matrimony? I have hardly seen so many enviable
marriages that I should wish to emulate any of them with the first straw-witted
chit who catches my eye. I will thank Amalia to keep her plans to herself.”

Lady Boskingram shuddered slightly. “I hope you do not believe
that all women are either straw-witted or straw damsels, dear,” she murmured
quietly. After a moment he looked up and smiled, the frown gone from his face,
even from his shaded eyes.

“I shall suggest to dear Amalia that she curtail her efforts
to find you a bride,” his aunt continued and was again rewarded by that beaming
smile. They were silent for a moment, and Lady Boskingram took the opportunity
to observe her nephew as he sat, his brow lined again in abstraction. One
carefully placed lock had come forward at the side of his face, disturbing the
strict disorder of the
coup de vent
style, but adding rather more
authenticity to it. Tracy’s gray eyes were hooded at present by the slouch of
expressive brows, and there was a mocking turn to his mouth. Striking, but not
handsome, Lady Boskingram thought. And so like his mother — and her own
husband. Not handsome in the way her son Richard was, but with a great deal
more character and, she thought, more kindness and sweetness than was ever seen
by ordinary acquaintances. She sighed briefly, and the sound served to remind
Sir Tracy that he had a guest with him.

“But, Aunt Peg, you are still a mystery to me. You have not
yet explained why you have done my house the honor of this visit. Not that I am
not delighted, but I must confess myself vulgarly curious. Have the Bosk
tenants rebelled and turned you from the Dower House?”

“Tracy, after the dreadful happenings in France the last few
years, I wonder you can speak in such a fashion.” His aunt was indignant.

“I have regaled you for quite half an hour with my trials.
The only fair thing is for you to satisfy me with yours,”

“Not trials, and so uninteresting — at least not so
interesting as your reasons for avoiding Amalia, a project which on the whole I
find myself approving, although I am sure it is scandalous in me to say so. No!
It is simply that I have decided to attend some of the parties being given by
some of my old friends for their own daughters, and — oh, mercy — their
granddaughters. And since I was to be here, Amalia asked me to oversee the
renovation of Bosk House, for she is not up to the exertion. It would be too
dreadful to sleep amid all that paint and new paper, let alone to be awakened
at dawn by the footsteps of workmen shuffling about under the window. So here I
am settled upon you. I do not mean to be a charge on you, dear, nor to let you
change your ‘situation’ one bit, so please treat your house as if it were your
house. My only request is that when you hold your debauches you will warn me in
advance, so that I may retire early and be out of the way.”

“I am sure we shall deal admirably, ma’am.” Sir Tracy took
her hand, bent over it, and, as at this moment Gergeley arrived to announce the
serving of dinner, tucked her hand under his arm and led her toward the dining
room, making polite inquiries as to the nature of the renovations to be done at
his cousin’s town house.

After they had dined, Lady Boskingram excused herself and
retired. Although Sir Tracy himself was feeling rather fatigued, he knew that
it behooved him, on the evening of his triumph, to go abroad among his fellows
and receive their congratulations, and to prove, of course, that he was none
the worse for his day’s work: that he was not as tired, in fact, as he knew
himself to be. In consequence, he remained out far longer than he had intended,
drank a trifle more than he should, lost one hundred guineas at one table, and
made up the loss in double at another. When at last he returned to Cavendish
Street, it was nearer the morning than the night, and he sent his yawning valet
off to bed, preferring to fend for himself than keep the man up. The process of
disrobing was somewhat slower than usual, with no extra hands to pull off the
hessians, and his own hands somewhat clumsy with fatigue and drink.

As he undressed, he thought of his aunt’s comments at at
dinner and in the Green Saloon, and chuckled slightly at the sole of the boot
he was just removing. His last thoughts before he was overcome by sleep were
not of his luck at gaming, or even, really, for his wager. I suppose I shall
never know who it was in that chaise, he thought, and was instantly asleep.

Lady Bevan, suppressing a natural impatience to get at her
project, allowed her sister to sleep the clock round and longer, so that it was
not until the next afternoon that they ventured out in Lady Bevan’s barouche
toward Bond Street. After a good deal of sleep and an excellent nuncheon, Miss
Ervine was in great spirits and looked, as far as might be possible considering
the necessary deficiencies of her toilette, very handsome. Regrettably there
had been no other dress to be found within the house at Grosvenor Square that
would come near to fitting Miss Ervine, all the maids being too small or of an
amplitude that would have swamped her in folds of bombazine. Despite the dismal
quality of her wardrobe, Althea was pleased to be abroad, taking the liveliest
interest in all that she could see around her, and enjoying, as she told her
sister, a most blessed sense of freedom from dear Papa.

“What a scandalous thing to say, Ally. You must take care
now you are in my charge, for offending the proprieties I will not have. And do
try to look around a little less obviously, dearest. I know that London is very
busy after a town like Hooking, but everyone must think you are some country
bumpkin gawking at the sights, and if you’ve no care for your own standing with
the ton, have a little care for mine! I am known never to have anyone driving
with me who is not of the first stare!”

“How boring that must be for you, Mary,” her sister said
amiably, as she continued to gawk.

“And please contrive not to — oh, I don’t know what it is,
but you do look so very large,” Lady Bevan said despairingly. “The fashion is
to be small and delicate and fragile, and you sit there looking as though you
were a housekeeper. It is of all things too bad.”

“I truly cannot help my size, Sister. Perhaps you could give
up your idea of fashionable life for me and find me some comfortable position
where I can look as practical and as
large
as I want.”

“Now, Ally don’t be difficult. It is only that I cannot see
how we are to convince some man that he wants to take care of you all your life
when you look as though you will be taking care of him. No, that’s not quite
right either.” Lady Bevan looked at her healthy sister in dismay. “In any
event, Ally, contrive to slouch a little. Out in public there is no reason for
you to sit as though Miss Brandywine still had the broomstick tied to your
back!”

At this memory both sisters dissolved into giggles, for
Althea’s deportment had been the despair of their governess, and it was only
from merest kindness that Althea had finally given in and learned the
schoolroom manners Miss Brandywine considered eligible.

“Just you wait, though, Ally, for when Madame Helena sees
you she will know just how to treat you to make you perfect. She’s a miracle
who walks, although she is frightfully dear. I know that between the two of us
we shall come upon something in short order.” Althea found herself the subject
of her sister’s intense scrutiny, with which evaluative stare she was becoming
very familiar.