Gayle Buck (23 page)

Mary was still sitting with Lady Caroline when two other ladies were shown in. Lady Pothergill and her ladyship’s niece, Mrs. Nessering, greeted Lady Caroline with the familiarity of long standing and congratulated her upon her betrothal to Lord Miles Trilby, the Earl of Walmsley.

“But I had no notion that you were acquainted with Lady St. John,” said Lady Pothergill with an inflection of surprise.

“Lord Trilby and Lord St. John are the closest of friends,” said Lady Caroline, smiling.

“Oh, so you have just now become acquainted,” said Lady Pothergill.

“I count Lady St. John one of my dearest friends, actually,” said Lady Caroline, shooting a glance brimful of wry amusement to the lady in question.

Mary could not help but respond to Lady Caroline’s twinkling eyes. She laughed. “Yes, indeed. I feel that I have known Lady Caroline forever and an age.”

“Indeed!” said Mrs. Nessering with a sharp look.

“When I came up to London to have my trousseau made up, I took instant advantage of the opportunity to call on Lady St. John. We have since spent many pleasant moments together. In fact, I do not know what I would have done without her to help me with my shopping yesterday. She discovered the most exquisite point lace. I was never more glad of it, for we had traipsed about all afternoon before we came across it,” said Lady Caroline.

Lady Pothergill and Mrs. Nessering exchanged a glance.

“I had quite thought I had heard you were seen driving about in a hackney yesterday, Lady St. John,” said Mrs. Nessering, baring her teeth.

If Mrs. Nessering had hoped to put Lady St. John out of countenance, she was disappointed. The viscountess’s face remained composed, though her brows rose a fraction as though in mild query.

Lady Caroline’s little laugh drew the ladies’ attention back. “I hope that I have a better sense of my own consequence than that, Mrs. Nessering. We were far more comfortable in my carriage than we could ever have been in a common cab. But now I am curious, Mrs. Nessering. Who was it who thought they had seen Lady St. John and myself in a hackney?”

“I do not precisely recall. Obviously they were mistaken,” said Mrs. Nessering.

The conversation turned to commonplaces then and Mary had begun to relax, when Mrs. Applegate was shown into the sitting room. Mary looked up, startled and dismayed. Her imagination could not have devised a worse coincidence.

Mrs. Applegate greeted her sister effusively. “Mary! How glad I am to have found you receiving,” she said with a blindingly beautiful smile. However, a slightly glittering look in her eyes somewhat belied her assumption of good humor.

Mary knew with a sinking feeling that her staff had tried to hint Mrs. Applegate away but she, being too used to having her way, had run straight through them. How unfortunate that this was the day that Craighton had requested to have free to take care of personal business, Mary thought dismally. “Tabitha, this is a surprise. I had not expected you to call on me today,” she said.

Mrs. Applegate sat down, nodding to the other ladies. She never gave a thought for the astonished expressions they each wore, merely taking it as admiration for her exquisite turn-out. She began to pull off her cherry red gloves. “I simply had to come, for I have heard nothing to the purpose from you for ages.”

“Surely you had my note?” asked Mary. She could not prevent herself from uttering the hasty words, much as she hesitated to bring up anything whatever to do with her sister’s importunities in this company. She had thought she had made it quite clear that she would not hear any more about the part that Tabitha and Mr. Applegate had wanted her to play in their grandiose scheme.

Mrs. Applegate tossed her head and the delightful confection of feathers and flowers on her head waved beguilingly. “That!” she said scornfully. “I did not regard it in the least. I knew you could not be so mean once you had given it more reflection.”

“Mary, I do hope that you will not think it bad of me, but I really should be going. I have a few other calls to make this morning. However, I hope to see you again later today,” said Lady Caroline. She turned with a pleasant smile to Lady Pothergill and Mrs. Nessering. “I am going in your direction. Lady Pothergill. May I offer you a seat in my carriage?”

“That is kind of you. Lady Caroline, but I left my own landau at the curb,” said Lady Pothergill.

“Oh, then I need not be anxious on your account. Mrs. Nessering, I recall that you had a way with a crystal punch. Perhaps you will give me your arm downstairs so that I may acquire that recipe from you,” said Lady Caroline.

“Oh, of course.” Mrs. Nessering threw a disconcerted glance at Lady Pothergill. “Naturally I would be delighted to do so.”

“Perhaps we also should be going,” said Lady Pothergill, reluctantly drawing her reticule and gloves together. She was an inveterate gossip and her antennae had already sensed the vibrations of a scandal. However, it was difficult to remain when Lady Caroline was behaving so graciously and there was not encouragement from the hostess to put off her leave-taking.

Mary rose, murmuring her regrets and assent. She was grateful to Lady Caroline for taking charge so handily and defusing a potentially embarrassing situation. Lady Pothergill and her niece had already stayed the requisite half hour, after all, and she was relieved to see that Lady Caroline had influenced them to adhere to polite convention.

“Oh, do not do so on my account. I have not met any of dear Mary’s friends as yet,” said Mrs. Applegate, her smile dazzling.

Lady Pothergill looked a pointed question in Lady St. John’s direction.

Mary had no alternative but to perform the introductions. “Lady Pothergill, Mrs. Nessering, Lady Caroline; my sister, Mrs. Applegate.”

Lady Pothergill’s thin sandy brows rose into her sparse hair. Her long nose fairly quivered. “Your sister, I believe you said, Lady St. John? How interesting, to be sure.”

“Quite,” said Mrs. Nessering on a titter.

Mrs. Applegate seemed unperturbed by the ladies’ combined stares. “You are undoubtedly admiring my bonnet. It is one of my prettiest to date, as Mary will tell you. I have settled on a number of smart confections for dear Mary, but she is such an old stick that she will say that they are too extravagant for her. But it is my opinion that now she is a viscountess she should smarten up her appearance. Why, she would be a perfect dowd if it were not for that pretty shawl.”

Mary felt the heat enter her face, but otherwise she managed to keep her facial expression perfectly controlled. Mrs. Applegate’s toilette was an eye-catching ensemble of lavish trim and ribbons, topped by an extravagant bonnet. In contrast, her own morning gown, through its very simplicity and excellent cut, practically shouted that it came from the hands of a very expensive modiste. The Norwich shawl that she had draped over her elbows had cost dearly, as well.

She was well aware how thoroughly her sister had exposed herself through her ignorance. A lady of breeding would have instantly recognized her mode of dress as the height of fashionable understatement. “Tabitha, I am certain these ladies have not the least interest in my appearance, dowdy or otherwise.”

Lady Pothergill’s expression had held a stunned disbelief, but at Mary’s quiet interjection, she smiled. “Not at all, Lady St. John. I have a great interest in fashion, as it happens.” She returned to her former place and laid aside her reticule and gloves. “I should be glad to remain a few minutes longer to explore the topic. My own obligations are not that urgent, but pray do not let us keep
you.
Lady Caroline.”

Mrs. Nessering tittered again, a faintly superior smile crossing her thin features. “Indeed. I am myself fascinated. Your own…toilette is quite riveting, Mrs. Applegate.”

Mrs. Applegate threw a triumphant look in Mary’s direction. “La, as though all we females did not wish to furbish up our appearances. Mary is a poor creature, however, so we must all make allowances for her. I do not know how the viscount ever came to take up with her, for she has never been one to set herself to look at her best. Why, can you believe it? She has thus far refused to wear even one of my dear little hats.”

Mary did not believe for a moment that it was Mrs. Applegate’s fashion sense that so fascinated Lady Pothergill and Mrs. Nessering; rather, it was the discovery that Lady St. John possessed a vulgar relative.

Lady Caroline drew her aside for a moment, the expression in her eyes sympathetic. She said in a lowered voice, “I wish that I could remain, but it seems I have been outmaneuvered.”

“I can only thank you for what you have already done,” said Mary gratefully. Lady Caroline pressed her hand and left.

Mary returned to her remaining guests. She sat by, quite powerless to stem her sister’s garrulousness in the face of Lady Pothergill’s leading questions. Before Lady Pothergill and Mrs. Nessering finally rose to take their leave, they had possession of every detail of Mrs. Applegate’s ambitious plan to provide the high kick of fashion in headgear.

Mary was quietly humiliated, but she refused to allow her glance to fall before Lady Pothergill’s superior amusement or Mrs. Nessering’s contemptuous smile. The ladies assured her that they had never spent a more entertaining hour as they took their leave. The footman showed them out, closing the door.

Mary turned slowly toward her sister. Mrs. Applegate stood in front of the large gilt mirror primping the satin bow under her rounded chin. Her satisfied expression was reflected in the glass.

Mary felt a tide of fury course through her. “Tabitha, have the goodness to leave off admiring yourself!”

Mrs. Applegate jumped and turned, her large eyes rounding. “La, Mary! What a start you have given me.”

“I shall give you a shaking to rattle your teeth if you do not attend to me, Tabitha! Once and for all, I shall not help you become a milliner. You may try to do so, with my goodwill, but I will not be dragged into it.”

“But Mr. Applegate said—”

“Bother Mr. Applegate! He is as much flash as he is foolish to put you up to such an idiotic scheme. The
ton
does not care for my opinion and you have done my credit the greatest harm imaginable in pressing Lady Pothergill and Mrs. Nessering to order from you. It will be all over town before the day is out. Everyone will be whispering about my sister, the milliner,” said Mary bitterly.

She knew it would be but a matter of time before the news came to Lord St. John’s ears. After the horrid occurrence with Sir Nigel, she had hoped more than ever that her sister’s desire for a milliner’s shop could be handled quietly. Unfortunately, whatever her father was doing in the wings had not come about quickly enough to keep her own skin out of trouble. She had very little doubt at all that she would at last fall foul of his renowned black fury.

“But that is wonderful! For a moment, I quite thought you meant that meeting those two ladies was a mistake, but I see now that it was not. Oh, Mary! I shall be famous!” exclaimed Mrs. Applegate.

Mary slapped her sister. Instantly she was sorry, not only for completely losing her temper but because Mrs. Applegate had dissolved into tears. She tried to put her arms around her sister, but Mrs. Applegate fended her away. “Tabitha, I did not mean it, truly I didn’t! Oh, you
must
see how impossible it all is! Lord St. John will not stand for it!”

“What will I not stand for, my lady?”

Mary looked around, appalled. She flushed, embarrassed to be caught in such straits. “My-my sister, Mrs. Applegate, my lord. She is overwrought.”

Lord St. John closed the door behind him. There was a queer smile on his face as he advanced toward the ladies.

Mrs. Applegate stopped weeping upon the viscount’s entrance, instantly struck that his lordship was a virile and attractive gentleman. She brushed her fingers over her cheeks, removing the traces of her tears, and smiled waveringly at him. She was unafraid that she had swollen or reddened eyes, for she was one of the fortunate few who could cry without suffering such ignominies. She curtsied, murmuring, “My lord, it is a pleasure to meet you at last.”

Lord St. John raised her hand and brushed his lips over her fingers. “Now you must tell me what has so distressed you, ma’am.”

Mrs. Applegate threw a resentful glance in her sister’s direction. “Mary slapped me, my lord! She is a petty, spiteful woman and has taken on such airs as makes one positively ill!”

Mary turned sharply away, unable to bear further humiliation, especially before her husband. “Pray excuse me.”

“No, stay.” There was command in the two words.

She turned, throwing up her head in unconscious pride. She met her husband’s unfathomable eyes. “I would prefer not to do so, my lord.”

“Nevertheless; it is my pleasure that you remain.”

Lord St. John’s gray eyes were quite cool, but there was a ruthless quality about his stern-held mouth that warned her that he would not brook argument. Mary felt that she had no choice but to obey. She sank into a wingback chair and averted her face.

Mrs. Applegate regarded the development with complacent satisfaction. Her beautiful eyes looked up into the viscount’s face. “La, my lord! I had not thought that anyone could bring Mary to heel.”

Lord St. John’s mouth tightened slightly, whether in amusement or otherwise it could not be said. “I believe that I have the key to the disagreement between you and my wife, Mrs. Applegate. It is the matter of a milliner’s shop, is if not?”

Mary turned her head sharply, a frown pulling together her brows.

“How did you know that, my lord?” asked Mrs. Apple-gate, disconcerted.

“My esteemed father-in-law introduced me to your husband, Mr. Applegate. Mr. Pepperidge thought it the wisest course,” said Lord St. John, glancing briefly at his wife. His expression did not warm. “The upshot of it all is that you are to have your shop, Mrs. Applegate.”

Mary leaped to her feet, uttering, “No!” But it was doubtful that her protest was heard over Mrs. Applegate’s squeal of delight and clapping hands.

“Oh, my lord, never say so! Why, it is a fairy tale, to be sure. Mr. Applegate assured me how it would be, but I was never certain it would actually come about!” Mrs. Apple-gate threw herself onto the viscount’s chest and expressed herself with an exuberant embrace.