But for the moment she did not see any way out of her dilemma. Lady Constance, entering the drawing room with a strange smile on her face, was running this show. And since it was for Betsy’s sake, Louisa was determined to go through with it.
She stifled a sigh. She would much rather be upstairs in her sitting room with Percival while his faithful steed carried him through the raging winds that lashed the leafless branches of the autumn trees as he made his way toward the ancient castle in the dungeon of which Corrine had been immured by the vicious Count Ombre.
The horse staggered under Percival as the raging torrent beat down on man and beast, but still they pressed for-ward. The wind raged at them, yanked at shield and cloak, and did its best to impede their progress. The rain, penetrating every layer of clothing, found Percival’s skin and bathed it in icy drops. He shivered, but still he persisted. The young and beautiful Corrine must not fall prey to the wicked count. He had pledged his life for her safety.
“Louisa.” Lady Constance’s somewhat plaintive tone recalled Louisa to reality. Or at least what appeared to be reality. Sometimes, these days, it looked like the border between the world of the romance and the world of real life was in danger of vanishing. And all because of one man.
“Yes, Louisa, you have taken. Everything went just beautifully. If I do say so myself.”
Louisa suppressed a smile. “I very much want to thank you, Lady Palmer-ton. I should never have managed without your help.”
“It was a pleasure, my dear.” Lady Constance sighed. “Oh, had I been blessed with a daughter of my own. How I should have enjoyed her coming out. But I did so well by you, I must say, getting you on Lady Sefton’s book. But then, she is such an admirable soul. Yes, indeed.”
Lady Constance opened the drawing room door and Louisa’s eyes met with a sight that made her choke quite suddenly. While she had been greeting Lady Palmerton, both Aunt Julia and Betsy had entered the drawing room. The exquisite was trapped on the divan between Aunt Caroline and Betsy, with a lap full of squirming kittens and only Aunt Caroline’s old shawl between his breeches and disaster. The expression of alarm on his face, thought Louisa, would have done admirably in one of Cruikshank’s caricatures.
The pompous Lord Harvey was seated in the old chair by the window while Aunt Julia explored the contours of his skull. “Excellent science, phrenology,” he was saying. “Let me tell you about this one specimen I saw. Excellent lymphatic - best I’ve ever seen. Rounded form and heavy countenance. I never saw a surer lymphatic.”
Aunt Julia, austere features fixed in what was for her a smile, was developing her own little monologue on certain aspects of Lord Harvey’s “organs,” which she delivered whenever her opponent paused for breath.
Louisa, with a full view of his lordship’s rather portly form, wondered whether he had ever analyzed his own type. She stifled a smile. Certainly the sanguine figured largely in Lord Harvey’s composition. There was certainly moderate plumpness and as for large lung capacity - she choked back a giggle.
It appeared that Percival and Corrine would have to wait. Much as she would like to leave the gentlemen callers to the mercies of the aunts and Betsy she could not in good conscience do so.
Lady Constance smiled. “Good after-noon, gentlemen.”
Lord Harvey interrupted his monologue long enough to say, “Good afternoon, Lady Palmerton,” and then, without so much as a pause, went smoothly on.
Aunt Julia looked up from her labors as though contemplating sharing her new find, and then, thinking better of it, momentarily rearranged her features in the semblance of greeting and murmured, “Working.”
Lady Constance advanced toward the exquisite, who was vainly endeavoring to save his glorious waistcoat from the savage attack of two different kittens. “I say, Lady Palmerton,” begged the beau in the longest statement Louisa had ever heard him make, “get these horrid creatures off me. They’ll ruin me. I won’t be able to appear in public.”
Lady Palmerton merely smiled. “It will do you good to be a little less than perfect, Reardon, my boy.”
“But ... but kittens!”
The beau’s tone held such obvious distaste that Louisa almost burst into laughter. Betsy, however, deciding that the kittens could not be trusted near such a terrible person, bundled them all up carefully and, with a last look of loathing at a man who disliked such lovely darlings, marched them off to safety.
The beau relaxed visibly, shot his cuffs, and reached for his snuff box.
Young Harry, who had entered just as Betsy had been leaving, had no know-ledge of the beau’s dislike of feline infants. And so, when this strangely dressed man once more raised his arms and shot his cuffs, Harry stared entranced. What a capital thing to do; Louisa could almost hear him thinking it. And then, as she watched, Harry’s hand went into his pocket in exact imitation of the beau’s movement and emerged with an imaginary snuff box.
Dear God, thought Louisa with a touch of hysteria - don’t let Harry take
that
ridiculous creature for a model! She did not believe she could bear it if Harry were to ape this man-milliner’s mannerisms.
A sudden picture of Atherton formed in her mind. His lean, lithe body moved with such grace. His dark eyes held such intriguing depths. And there was no question of his maleness. Though he looked at ease on the floor at Almack’s it was equally easy to imagine him in the saddle, riding forth to the hunt. But this beau - the picture of him hunting would make another good caricature, thought Louisa with a smile.
The exquisite, now that his finery was rescued from imminent ruin, turned his attention again upon Louisa. With a sigh she wished for the kittens back again. Anything to make him desist in that nerve-wracking ogling.
She turned her eyes toward Lord Harvey who, perceiving her attention, endeavored to draw her into his monologue. Louisa felt herself caught between two extremes - the exquisite’s ogling was difficult to bear, but Lord Harvey’s erudition was almost equally insupportable. If this was a sample of life in the
ton,
she thought suppressing a sigh, she could almost understand the
ennui
of which Atherton spoke.
Suddenly, from the doorway came the deep tones of Atherton’s voice. “Drimble is occupied with receiving innumerable cards,” said his lordship. “And so I presumed to show myself in.” His dark eyes traveled around the room and then met Louisa’s in a mischievous smile. “Louisa, my dear. I see that you have guests.”
Louisa was instantly aware that the exquisite and Lord Harvey both pricked up their ears at Atherton’s familiar use of her first name; but she felt suddenly giddy and so took up the challenge she was sure the Viscount had issued her. “Yes, Philip, I do.”
Her eyes met his again and a daring plan formed in her mind. She knew how to escape her deadly callers and Atherton would help her. He would think it a great lark.
She took a deep breath. “I’m most dreadfully sorry,” she said, meeting his eyes again, “not to have been ready for our ride. But since you are sometimes late - and these gentlemen were so kind as to call...”
Atherton’s lips curved in a smile. “I suppose I shall have to forgive you for not being ready,” he said, picking up her cue. “But come, now that I am here do not keep me waiting any longer. I am most sorry, gentlemen,” he said urbanely without the slightest trace of that sentiment in his expression or tone, “to disrupt your visit. But Louisa did have a prior engagement. And as an old friend of the family ... well, I’m afraid I shall quite insist on my rights.”
The exquisite rose precipitately, and shooting his cuffs once more with an expression of distaste, bowed low over Louisa’s fingers. “Must go. Come again. Soon,” he murmured before mincing gracefully from the room.
From the corner Aunt Julia spoke. “I have not yet finished analyzing Lord Harvey’s skull.”
“That is quite all right, Aunt Julia,” replied Atherton with a warm smile. “You can go right on.”
Louisa cast Lord Harvey a glance, but that worthy gentleman gave a nod and continued his disquisition to Aunt Julia.
Now, thought Louisa, what was she to do? If Lord Harvey had only gone, she could have thanked Atherton and, hopefully, returned to her writing. But Harvey seemed determined to remain ensconced in her drawing room.
Louisa felt a warm hand on her shoulder and, without looking, knew immediately that it was Atherton’s. “Come, Louisa,” he said. “Get your bonnet. Constance can visit with Aunt Caroline while we have our ride.”
Louisa found herself rising to her feet obediently. She fought to keep the color from her cheeks as she realized that she had practically invited herself to go for a ride with his lordship! The thought of it made her tremble. Whatever had caused her to behave in such a peculiar fashion?
“Please do not be over long, Louisa, my dear,” drawled the Viscount, his eyes dancing with mischief. “You know how abominably I hate to be kept waiting.”
“I have ...” Louisa began and then thought better of it. “I’ll be down shortly,” she said and hurried from the room.
Her hands shook as she put her bonnet on before the cheval glass. Her eyes, she noted, seemed to have an added sparkle, and her cheeks were flushed with color. It was the face of a heroine, Louisa realized, but even that dismaying thought had no capacity to dim her pleasure. If all this were an illusion, if the Viscount were only amusing himself with her, as in all good sense she must suppose he was, then well and good. There was no reason why she could not enjoy the flirtation, however brief it might be. Many women did such things and emerged heartwhole.
The fact that her heart was already less than whole she adamantly refused to admit. If Atherton were amusing himself, she would amuse
herself.
And throwing all exemplary caution to the wind, Louisa descended the stairs, determined to enjoy herself.
Atherton, of course, was waiting, her shawl in his hands. His eyes sparkled dangerously as he laid it around her shoulders.
“We
have certainly picked a lovely afternoon for a ride,” said he.
Louisa, fighting the wave of feeling that rushed over her as his fingers brushed the nape of her neck, heard the emphasis on “we” and summoned a smile. “Yes, isn’t it? And it was so kind of you to suggest it.” She made herself meet those dangerous eyes.
His lordship raised one eyebrow languidly, but he said no more, merely escorting her down the steps, handing her into the barouche, and settling beside her.
They were some distance down the street before he spoke again, his drawl even more pronounced than usual. “So Louisa, you have become a female politician, manipulating males to your purposes.”
There was no hint of laughter in his voice and Louisa turned, suddenly fearful that she had offended him. But Atherton was smiling-broadly and she found herself giggling in relief. “You are exceedingly quick-witted, milord.”
“Philip,” he interrupted. “Philip, the old family friend.”
Louisa swallowed another giggle. “I am so grateful to you, mi ... Philip. They took me so by surprise. And when you came...”
“So providentially,” he interposed.
Louisa nodded. “So providentially. I thought I could get them to leave.”
Atherton chuckled. “The exquisite departed with such haste that I conjectured that Aunt Julia had him in mind as her next subject.”
Louisa chuckled. “I don’t know about that. Perhaps he was in terror for his finery. Before you came ...” She broke into laughter. “Before you came, Aunt Caroline and Betsy were showing him the kittens.”
Atherton, too, laughed. “Right on top of his inexpressibles, I presume.”
“Oh yes. And his face - oh, his face was such a sight. And he spoke three whole sentences.”
Atherton smiled. “That must have put an excessive strain on him.”
Louisa could not stop laughing at the memory of Reardon’s face.
“So,” commented the Viscount, “the exquisite feared another feline descent.”
Louisa nodded. “He may well have. But from the baleful looks that Betsy was giving him as she bundled up her darlings I should judge that he will not see the kittens again.”
“Harvey appeared to be right at home,” remarked his lordship casually.
“It seems that he and Aunt Julia have like devotion to the phrenological science,” said Louisa. “Most fortunately for me.”
“I see.”
Louisa sighed. “It is all so unusual. All those visitors. Why, we have lived in the same house for many years and have had very few callers. Now, all of a sudden, they come by the score.”
“You have become an
on-dit,
” said his lordship, his eyes scrutinizing her care-fully. “Your appearance at Almack’s was a great success. You have taken.”
“But I did not want to take,” cried Louisa unhappily. “It is a terrible nuisance and keeps me from my wo -” she caught herself in time. “I am not equipped to receive callers, especially two such characters. If your sister had not arrived when she did, I should probably have a drawing room full of eccentrics. Why did they have to descend on me? What purpose can it serve?”
The Viscount surveyed her critically. “I believe you are serious,” he drawled.
“Of course I am.” Louisa was finding that affected drawl rather disconcerting.
“Yes,” Atherton nodded. “I see that you are. I must tell you, Miss Penhope, that in spite of your advanced years you are in certain respects no more learned than a schoolroom chit.”
Louisa felt her cheeks coloring. “Will you kindly tell me what you are talking about?” she begged. “You are certainly not acting like a hero.”
His lordship smiled whimsically. “
Au
contraire,”
said he. “I am warning you of impending danger.”
“Danger? From those two?”
“Precisely from those two,” said the Viscount. “Why do you suppose they came to call - the little exquisite and the big pomposity?”
Louisa had to smile at his apt descriptions, but she could only shake her head. “I just told you. I do not know.”
Atherton smiled. “My dear, Louisa, in spite of your assurance that you are quite beyond the proper age, I collect that the gentlemen in question have come calling with but one object in mind - matrimony.”