Ridiculous (33 page)

That was enough to bring up North’s head.

“I have noticed no one cutting me. Mildred and Maude have not reported anything and I have seen no drop off in invitations. Do you think we shall have some invitations withdrawn?”

“Perhaps. I hope not.”

“I see. Thank you, Shoffer, but if there is any risk of harm to Beth … may the girls still call upon her? I should not go with them. Or perhaps we should leave London.”

“No. No, that you cannot do. To disappear from society would give the impression that you are guilty. That would do more harm than you could imagine. It is only necessary that you and I be less in each other’s pockets.”

North attempted to raise his eyebrow, an attempt which drew a reluctant laugh from Shoffer.

“Gentlemen travel about with each other all the time,” protested North. “Is it because I cannot claim that I went to Eton with you or to Cambridge that I am unworthy of your company?”

“No! It is more that gentlemen tend to travel in larger groups, or with more variety of companions. These last few weeks, it is said, that one cannot see one of us without the other. That is the only fuel this fire has. Do not take this to heart, North. It is a comment on my actions as well as yours. Usually when I come down for Parliament, I make choosing and setting up a mistress one of my earliest actions. This year I have been so caught up with advancing Beth’s cause that I have neglected that task.”

“My cousins and I have taken up much of your time as well.”

“And I regret none of it, North. Believe that. If it were not for Attelweir, then this rumor would not have started. However, now that it has it is necessary for us to adjust our arrangements. In addition to seeing less of each other I think it important that we both choose and set up a mistress. If you require any assistance…”

North blushed. “Enough! Good God, please, I beg you stop! Your Grace, say nothing more! This is one subject on which I will not accept your advice.”

Shoffer laughed and raised his hands. “I do apologize.”

North’s expression was particularly pained and embarrassed and for a moment Shoffer speculated about North’s experience with women. Surely, a gentleman so popular with the ladies would have been intimate by now … surely. Then again, maybe not. North was too kind a man, too honorable to debauch a virgin and too respectful of others’ feelings to chase after another man’s wife. Whatever North’s arrangements were it would not do to embarrass the poor man to suggest he was unable to establish a relationship. That he was still a virgin at his advanced age of four and twenty.

“Very well, I shall leave you to it, North. As for me, I shall find an occupant for my house in Wesley Square.”

“Wesley Square?”

“I maintain a house there for my mistress, whoever she is. It is being wasted this year with no occupant.”

“You will find an occupant so easily?”

“I am a duke.” There was no modesty in the statement, but no arrogance, either. It was merely truth.

“And
ton
gatherings? Shall we divide up the duties of attending your sister and my cousins? Shall you send me a note telling me which events you will be attending so that I may know not to go? Or should I stay at home until the gossip dies away?”

“Heavens, no! You are popular yet with the hostesses with your nonsense. It is just we should behave toward each other with less … less…”

“Less,” repeated North, downcast. “Yes, I see.”

“And during the day you should try to develop more friendships. Gather some fellows about you. Let there be more than just myself who benefits from your company. I keep urging you to join a club or two and go about gambling and such as is appropriate for a man of your station.”

“I understand,” said North in as solemn and soft a voice as Shoffer had ever heard the man use.

“We shall continue to be friends.”

North rose to his feet, his hands behind his back and chin high. “I appreciate all you have done to make my entry into good society as easy as it has been and I shall do all in my power to quell these rumors that snap at the heels of your good name. With that in mind, I think you should go and be seen yourself about town tonight. Go to a brothel, find yourself a woman, find ten and prove your vigor!”

The last was said with some heat.

“North!”

“I apologize,” said Millicent, after a moment, and forced her hands to unclench. “You have been everything that is noble and kind and I am ashamed for my part in this embarrassment.”

“It is not your fault, my friend.”

Millicent closed her eyes and tried to calm her ragged breathing. “What is to be done?” she cried, ashamed to hear her voice travel up into her feminine register. Coughing she covered her face, half of her hoping Shoffer did not notice her slip and the other desperately hoping he had.

“For myself,” said Shoffer, “I shall be attending Lady Algrieve’s Venetian Masque tomorrow. It is the ideal place to find a lady with whom to behave badly.”

Millicent winced at the thought of Shoffer with another woman, but her responsibilities held her in a prison of her own making. Her honor might be battered. Society in general might despise her as a degenerate, but she would continue on as Mr. North. Gathering her courage she turned to face the man who held her heart and said the most painful words she had ever thought to utter.

“You should not be here at this hour of the night, Your Grace. Stay away from me. Your welfare, and that of dear Lady Beth, are more important to me than you can know, so I beg you, stay away!”

Shoffer gathered himself stiffly and bowed.

“Call upon me if you have any great need.”

“I suspect I shall be busy elsewhere for some time,” said Millicent, “and have no expectation of needing any aid.”

“As you wish.”

Millicent rang the bell summoning the footman from his rest.

“I think a witness to your departure is required,” she murmured.

“As you wish. Good night, North.”

“Go away, Duke of Trolenfield!” whispered Millicent, but only once the door closed behind him. “Go away and never come back.”

Chapter Fourteen

There was no justice in the universe, decided Millicent, as she watched the minutes of the night drag past. If she had not been so miserable, she might have found the situation funny.

Tears had been shed in good measure and now she was in a dreadful state of exhaustion and self-pity. She wished, begged for, sleep to swamp her and allow her an escape from the pain in her heart

It was unjust.

She, Millicent Boarder, loved the Duke of Trolenfield, but could not have him. Never touch or dance with him. Never flirt with, or heaven help her, kiss him. Never taste him. Painful though it was to be near him, she bore that burden; she accepted it as the price she paid to be Mr. Anthony North and provide for her mother and sisters.

Now to be accused of a criminal love for him and to be banished from his presence was beyond cosmic irony. In truth, she had committed a crime that would justify hanging if she were found out, but not the crime of which the
ton
suspected her. That society gossiped about.

She lay buried under layers of pillows and duvets as the dawn light crept into the room. The breakfast bell rang elsewhere in the building and was ignored. Indeed, she did not move until late morning when Mildred barreled into the chamber and pulled the blankets down off the bed and onto the floor.

“Mildred, that is hardly proper. This is a gentleman’s bedchamber, after all.” Millicent seized her blankets and hauled them back over her head.

“A gentleman who has kept the women of his household waiting a full hour past when he promised to take them to Bond Street.”

“You have clothing already,” mumbled Millicent.

“I told you, I need a few new walking dresses and a pelisse. If I am going to be walking out in the park with Mr. Simpson, I wish to impress him. I cannot be wearing the same costume always.”

“You cannot be buying different outfits always. He may flee you judging you to be too expensive for his pocket.”

Mildred again pulled the blankets off.

“You promised to take us shopping, Mr. North. Come, it is not as if you are keeping the money to spend on yourself!”

Groaning, Millicent sat upright and ran one hand over her swollen eyes. “I will have you know it takes a great deal of effort to appear this shabby.”

“Effort? Yes. Money? No. Come along. The late Mr. North proved you cannot take it with you when you die so we may as well spend it now.” Mildred opened the curtains and turned to face her sister. “Good heavens, you look dreadful.”

“Thank you so very much.” Millicent swung her legs out of bed and staggered over to the wash basin to splash water on her aching eyes.

“What have you been doing? Have you taken to drink?”

Reluctant to discuss Shoffer’s revelations of the previous night Mildred settled for a different truth. “Reading letters from my tenants. Roofs that leak, ill stock. All manner of bad luck that must be put before the landlord. It seems not one day goes by that I do not receive a letter complaining of unexpected expense that I must take a share in.”

“You know,” said Mildred, tugging at her lip, “it could be they lie to reduce their rents unfairly thinking you young and inexperienced.”

“Of course, I am aware of that,” snapped Millicent. “But as the only way I can be certain is to visit and see for myself…”

She paused and considered. That might be a solution. Some time away would give the gossips time to find another scandal to latch onto. Time for Shoffer to find a mistress. She closed her eyes and pressed her hand against her chest. The thought of Shoffer loving another woman was agony. Mildred caught the look of pain that crossed Millicent’s face and took her by the arm.

“Millicent, are you unwell? Truly, you do not look yourself.”

“That is because I am Mr. North and you should not be in my room.”

Mildred was not to be put off. “How may I help?”

Smiling slightly Millicent shook her head. “No, dear. If you would but go downstairs to wait, I shall be with you shortly. I beg you; have coffee sent up while I dress.”

“If you truly are unwell, you need not accompany us…”

“Only I should send my pocket with you?” Millicent turned and headed into her dressing room. “Fear not, fair cousin. I shall be dressed and downstairs in but a moment.”

Millicent spent the day trailing her female relatives from shop to shop in a perfect imitation of a much put upon, bored male, if she but knew it. It was not until they were in the fourth modiste’s shop that she revived a little. An evening gown of honey brown colored silk with ivory lace upon the bodice and trailing down from the high waist in a demi train adorned a dressmaker’s form in the center of the waiting room. Her interest caught, Millicent wandered across to stroke the cap sleeve between her fingers.

“I like this one,” she murmured, then raised her voice. “Do you not agree, cousin? This is beautiful.”

“Do not be silly, Mr. North,” said Felicity, glancing across. “That will never do for the girls. This season they may only wear white and I do not wear brown.”

Millicent shook herself out of her preoccupation. Of course it would not do for her sisters. They were honey blonds themselves and this color of silk would make their hair appear washed out. In truth the colors suited the late Millicent’s darker hair and stronger features. Noting the modiste’s attention Millicent stepped back and regarded the dress from the side.

“They will not always be in débutante white.”

“Really, Mr. North,” said Felicity, “allow me to know what will and will not suit my daughters.”

“I know someone it would suit,” murmured Millicent, but Felicity was no longer listening.

Once Felicity and the girls were tucked away in dressing rooms the modiste appeared at Millicent’s side.

“If you wish, sir,” she said in a low voice, “you might send your lady friend around. This dress was commissioned by another, but not completely paid. If you pay the balance you may have it at a discount. I would be discreet and not tell your lady friend the price. She will regard you as generous once she sees the quality of the lace.”

Millicent stammered and blushed even as her mind raced. The modiste thought she was shopping for a mistress!

Shoffer had suggested she set up a mistress. She could not! There were undeniable physical reasons why she could not. After a pause, Millicent smiled at the modiste. She could create the illusion of one. A few purchases here and there might do the trick. After all, what was one more lie?

Reaching into her pocket, Millicent drew out a handful of coins. “If you would package it up, I shall take it with me. The … uh … her lady’s maid can make what adjustments are necessary.”

With a reluctant nod, the modiste whisked the dress form away and returned shortly thereafter with an innocent appearing bundle. She gave Millicent a knowing look which again set her to blushing. No doubt she looked a fool, but if she were lucky, the modiste would gossip up and down Bond Street that the famous Mr. North was seen buying clothing for a lady who was not his cousin.

On their return home Millicent was pleased to see that, as yet, there was no fall off of invitations. A respectable pile adorned Merit’s silver salver. They adjourned to the family parlor for tea and reviewed the latest.

“Lady Peling requests the honor of our company for an evening of cards,” read Maude. “She especially desires the presence of Mr. North.”

“For cards?” asked Millicent. “Hardly. I enjoy the company of my money too much.”

“An evening of music with the Forthingtons on Friday next,” read Mildred. “The daughters of the family will be performing on harp and pianoforte. Mr. North is expected.”

“Never,” said Felicity. “The Forthington girls will expect to have the attention of any males there as reward for their labors. Attending would be a waste of time.”

“I do not know,” said Millicent. “Can they play their instruments with skill?”

“That hardly matters,” replied Felicity.

“Oh, look at this. The Countess Greylin is having a small gathering of friends this evening,” Maude clapped her hands. “We must go.”