The Indomitable Miss Harris (12 page)

Mrs. Periwinkle was waiting for her in her bedchamber and gave her an appraising glance before waving her hand toward a table where a plate rested, temptingly piled with cold slivered beef, cheese, bread and butter, and fruit.

“I thought you might need sustenance, my dear.”

“Oh, thank you, ma’am. I’m starving!” Gillian looked fondly at the thin little woman, elegant today in puce sarcenet with a pink satin cap. “Ellen must have told you what happened. I’m dreadfully sorry if I caused you any worry. I should not have behaved so selfishly.”

“Indeed. A bit tetchy and wayward of you, my dear, but I collect Landover was not too harsh.”

“He was furious at first,” Gillian replied, taking a seat at the table and piling beef and cheese onto a slice of buttered bread. “He very nearly sent me back to Sussex.”

“Oh, my dear! But only ‘very nearly’?”

“Yes. He came round. But it was a near miss, I promise you.”

“‘Sweet mercy is nobility’s true badge,’” quoth Mrs. Periwinkle solemnly.

Gillian grinned. “This is hardly a comedy of errors, my dear ma’am. Where is Avery?”

“Off sulking somewhere, no doubt,” stated her companion with just a trace of uncharacteristic exasperation. Gillian stared at her, and Mrs. Periwinkle shrugged. “Perhaps I should not say such things, but he has been living life like a drunken sailor on a mast. ’Tis no wonder Landover called him to book. But now he says he has no turn for dancing or doing the polite and don’t see why he should be made to play the fool.”

Light dawned. “Landover has ordered him to accompany us to Almack’s tonight, and Avery doesn’t wish to go.” Mrs. Periwinkle nodded. “Well, I shall have a word with him,” Gillian said, smiling. “He cannot have thought properly.”

Accordingly, once she had finished her repast, she went to find her brother. A few words from her with regard to Lady Harmoncourt’s intentions soon put Sir Avery in a better frame of mind, and once he discovered that they were to dine at Harmoncourt House before going on to Almack’s—a detail Landover had quite forgotten to mention to him—he began to look forward to the evening ahead.

The dinner was a very fine one, and the placement of guests gave Gillian an excellent opportunity to study Lady Sharon Clevenger, the damsel provided for Landover’s inspection, since they sat opposite one another. Lady Sharon was an elegant piece of goods, Gillian decided. Her sea-green evening dress showed good taste, her manners were polished, and she had no difficulty holding her own in conversation with Landover. And as if all that were not enough, Lady Sharon was a beauty, with a slim, willowy figure, aquamarine eyes, and a mane of magnificent red hair.

When they went on to Almack’s, Gillian was a good deal in Lady Sharon’s company, since the party tended to stay together. As a beginning, it seemed promising. Landover clearly seemed to pay more attention to Lady Sharon than to Gillian. He did not so much as ask the latter to dance, but this was explained by Lady Sybilla when the two had a moment to discuss the success of their little scheme.

“Mama was only too glad to bring Sharon Clevenger to his notice,” Sybilla confided. “Besides dragging Orison in, she also told him people were beginning to talk about his intentions toward you. So that ought to keep him out of your hair a bit.”

Gillian wasn’t sure if that was the cause or not, but she couldn’t deny that during the following week, Landover stayed very much out of her hair. On Monday, as promised, Tsar Alexander and King Frederick landed at Dover, and on Tuesday evening, Landover attended a magnificent banquet at Carlton House in their honor. Gillian saw him at breakfast the following morning.

“Was it wonderful?” she asked. “We got tired of waiting for the precession, so Cousin Amelia and I came home.”

Landover chuckled. “The banquet was marvelous, but only one of the guests of honor showed up. You didn’t see the procession because the Tsar never joined it. He slipped into London on his own. Then he chose to dine privately with his sister at the Pulteney instead of attending the dinner at Carlton House. Prinny’s nose is sadly out of joint.”

“Oh dear!”

“There is worse news. Alexander has declined to stay at St. James’s. He has taken over the principal apartments at the Pulteney instead, and I am told that Mr. Escudier, the manager, has pulled out all the stops.”

“What of King Frederick?”

Landover grinned, helping himself to toast from the silver rack. “Oh, he will stay at Clarence House as planned, but all the fine satinwood furniture Prinny ordered especially for his suite has been removed. His majesty is the spartan sort. He will sleep on nothing but a straw palliasse, and he has ordered a plain table and looking glass, with one common chair to be substituted for all the finery.”

Gillian stared at him. “You’re joking!”

“Not a bit of it. He likes to be thought a soldier first, king second.”

“How absurd!” Jeremy refilled her teacup, and she smiled up at him gratefully, then turned back to find Landover eyeing her speculatively. “Yes?”

He shook his head. “Just wondering if you’ve been behaving yourself,” he confessed. “I’ve been busy.”

She knew it. Since the arrival of the foreign visitors, she had scarcely seen him, and for days before, much of his time had been claimed by the Regent, who wished to discuss last-minute plans and details with anyone who would listen. She had, however, caught a glimpse of him at two or three of the events she had attended during the week. On each occasion, Lady Sharon Clevenger had been tantalizingly near at hand. An imp of mischief danced in Gillian’s eye as she grinned at him now.

“How is Lady Sharon?”

He grinned back. “Delightful. Very submissive and obedient—a refreshing change for me, you will allow.”

Sparks routed the imp of mischief. “You’ve had no complaints of my behavior, sir!”

“Very true,” he agreed sweetly, “but experience warns me ’tis merely the calm before the storm.”

“Ooh!” Gillian could think of nothing further to say that might answer the purpose, although several demolishing rebuttals would occur to her once she reached the peace and quiet of her bedchamber. At the moment, however, she merely arose from the table with as much chilly hauteur as she could muster and flounced from the room, sped along by Landover’s chuckles.

As a consequence, when she received a message from the Princess Charlotte asking that she call at Warwick House, she canceled her other plans straightaway, informing Mrs. Periwinkle that she would see her later in the afternoon. Several people were joining them at Landover House for supper that evening before going on to the weekly assembly, and Gillian meant to have plenty of time to prepare herself.

Mrs. Periwinkle frowned. “Are you certain you don’t want me to accompany you?”

“No, no, don’t trouble yourself, my dear ma’am. Landover has waived all objections to my visiting her highness, and I’m perfectly certain you would enjoy a morning to yourself, indulging in a comfortable coze with an old friend or two. You cannot pretend that you haven’t denied yourself such pleasures on my account.”

Blithely ignoring the fact that Landover had not precisely rescinded his order that Mrs. Periwinkle accompany her wherever she went, Gillian called Ellen and ordered a carriage to drive her to Warwick House. Thus it was that when Princess Charlotte confided a wish that Miss Harris accompany her upon a visit to her mother, the Princess of Wales, there was none to say yea or nay. But with Landover’s comments fresh in her mind, Gillian had no hesitation in agreeing to the outing. She did mention the necessity of an early return, however, and received a royally infectious grin in reply.

“Not to worry, my dear Miss Harris. ’Tis an illicit visit for both of us. My respected father strictly curtails intercourse between dear Mama and myself, and he will descend upon me like the Furies if he discovers I have defied him.” Gillian made a move to protest, but her highness silenced her with a graceful gesture. “’Tis of no consequence, I assure you. Papa is by far too much occupied with the business of currying imperial favor to bother his head about us. There is the Tsar’s levee at my Uncle Cumberland’s house at one o’clock, and then the King of Prussia’s levee at Clarence House. Then between five and six this evening is Grandmama’s court, where he must introduce them both. Afterward, they will all dine at Carlton House. I shall no doubt have to attend the dinner and possibly the court, but no one will bother about me before that, so I shall surprise Mama.”

The journey to Connaught House assumed the outlines of a royal progress. Gillian, the princess, and Miss Knight rode in one carriage, followed by another containing several ladies-in-waiting and surrounded by outriders.

Connaught House was an elegant residence standing in well-kept gardens near the corner where Bayswater Road met the Edgware Road, and Gillian thought it a charming place. She was not so impressed by the Princess of Wales, however. Having expected an older version of Charlotte, she was rather put off by the plump, guttural-voiced woman who greeted them. There could be no doubt that the Princess Caroline welcomed her daughter’s visit, but Gillian could see none of the signs of maternal love that she associated with her own dear mother. The Princess of Wales seemed only to complain of her lot—in particular, to complain of the fact that the Queen had ordered her to avoid all the June drawing rooms on account of the fact that the Regent meant to grace them with his presence.

“To be forbidden even
mein
own daughter’s presentation,” she moaned wretchedly. “’Tis an abomination, don’t you agree, Miss Harris?”

Noting Gillian’s reluctance to take sides on an issue about which she knew very little, Charlotte spoke up more quickly than usual.

“I missed you dreadfully, madam, but her grace of Oldenburg was very kind, and it quite upset Papa to have to be civil to her—or to me, for that matter,” she chuckled.

Her highness nodded. “She is a very clever woman, that duchess,” she said to Gillian. “Knows the world and mankind well. My daughter could not be in better hands.” Her sudden, wry smile gave her a more noticeable resemblance to her daughter. “Besides, they are a great deal together, which makes the Regent look outrageous.”

There being no acceptable reply, Gillian was once again grateful to the younger princess when she changed the subject abruptly to discuss forthcoming events such as the Ascot races, the Opera, and the Burlington House masquerade, as well as the upcoming Guildhall Banquet. The latter was an annual dinner given by the City of London to honor the prime of the English nobility and was particularly intriguing to women in that it was always an all-male affair.

Although the visit lasted barely an hour, Gillian was extremely grateful when Princess Charlotte signaled for their departure. On the way back to Warwick House, the princess maintained a lively chatter, so it was not until she was alone in her own carriage that Gillian paused to reflect upon Landover’s probable reaction to her visit to the Princess of Wales.

It proved not to be a matter of immediate concern, however, for she discovered upon her return that he was out, and she would have to hurry if she meant to be ready when their guests began to arrive.

The first to arrive was the Hartnoncourt contingent. Lady Sybilla greeted Gillian enthusiastically and stayed speaking with her for some moments, though her eye tended to shift rather often to the hearthstones, where Sir Avery stood, Malaga glass in hand, conversing idly with Lord Harmoncourt, an affable, plumpish gentleman with a perpetual twinkle in his eye.

“It’s going splendidly, is it not?” Sybilla observed with a grin, dragging her gaze back to Gillian’s amused countenance.

“Yes, Avery is growing accustomed to doing the fancy,” Gillian replied wickedly. “I expect it is because he has discovered how well he looks in knee breeches.”

Lady Sybilla flushed delicately. “’Tis Landover and Lady Sharon I meant, Gillian, and well you know it. I am sure Sir Avery’s activities are of no consequence to me.”

Gillian smiled but forbore to tease her friend, and at that moment, MacElroy opened the doors of the salon to announce the arrival of Lady Sharon and her mama, the Countess Edgware, a stout dame solidly encased in corsets and wielding a gold-rimmed lorgnette like a lethal weapon. Lady Sharon, in a becoming russet-silk robe trimmed with gilt fringe, paused on the threshold with an air of pretty shyness and surveyed the room much, thought Gillian with strong disaffection, as though she were assessing the value of its contents. Then, catching sight of Landover and Mrs. Periwinkle, the redhead rushed forward holding out her dainty, white-gloved hands.

“Mrs. Periwinkle!” she gushed. “Dear Mrs. Periwinkle! How nice to see you again. And Landover.” She laid a possessive hand upon his arm. “What a marvelous house, my lord.” The marquis smiled down at her.

“Fatuous idiot!” muttered Miss Harris wrathfully.

“What’s that you say?” drawled a familiar voice at her shoulder. She started, then glared.

“It won’t do, Avery! That redheaded witch is impossible!”

S
IR AVERY STARED DOWN
at his sister with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. “It’s doing just fine, Gill,” he said pointedly. “Landover hasn’t had a moment to scold in a week, and that chit’s had a good deal to do with the fact.”

“But she’s unsuitable, Avery! Can’t you see that? Just watch her. Though she stands perfectly still, it’s as though she’s gloating over gold coins clinking through her fingers.”

“Can’t see it m’self,” he refuted, “but whether you’re right or not makes no never-mind to me, just so long as the chit keeps his mind off me.” His eyes widened suddenly, and there was a surprising stiffness in his next words, spoken past Gillian’s shoulder. “Good evening, sir.” She turned to find Mr. Brummell approaching them.

“Good evening, children.” He gestured toward the rest of the company. “Nice pleasant group you’ve got here. Surprised the Clevenger chit’s still hanging about, but I daresay Landover is encouraging her to humor his sister. Must want to humor her mighty bad if he’s willing to have that Edgware dragon in his house. Still, a far superior group to the mob gathering just now at Carlton House.”