The Viscount's Revenge (The Royal Ambition Series Book 4) (13 page)

Mrs. Fitzgerald looked furious, and then she shrugged and surveyed Richard as he stood holding Susan’s hand with a certain glint of admiration in his eyes. “You knowing so many debutantes, of course,” she said at last.

“Of course,” said Richard mildly. Susan snatched her hand away and looked at him, a puzzled hurt look, a searching look at the same time, trying to find out if he were making a game of her.

Lord Hawksborough entered and Amanda’s heart gave a lurch. He looked so handsome. I am as bad as Susan, Amanda immediately chided herself. I have a schoolgirl adoration of Lord Hawksborough just as Susan has one for Lady Mary.

Wraps and cloaks were collected and the party went out to the carriages which were to take them to the ball.

Aunt Matilda and the Colbys were to travel in one and the viscount and his mother and sister in the other.

“Well done,” said Amanda, giving Richard’s hand a squeeze.

“Susan?” He grinned. “Well, I meant it. No wonder she’s so rough and sulky when her mother keeps telling her she’s plain. I’ll swear that was not the first time, you know.”

“I do not see how my lord can have such a cruel mother,” said Amanda, lowering her voice so that Aunt Matilda would not hear.

“As to that,” said Richard thoughtfully, “you can’t call her clutch-fisted or cruel so far as we are concerned. Susan doesn’t stand up to her, that’s the problem.”

“You will dance with her,” pleaded Amanda.

“I mean to,” said Richard, and Amanda threw him a startled look in the darkness of the carriage.

Richard could surely not be forming a
tendre
for such a prickly nettle as Susan!

“Remember, Amanda,” came Aunt Matilda’s voice, “that you are to do
nothing
to embarass Mrs. Fitzgerald. Do
not
cross your legs, and do not speak unless you are spoken to. You must not refuse to stand up with
any
gentleman or that will mean you cannot dance with anyone else.

“And do not hold your fan by the handle. The fan should always be held at the
top
when you are not using it.”

“Yes, Aunt,” said Amanda meekly.

“It is a pity Lady Mary is not with us.” Aunt Matilda sighed. “She and Lord Hawksborough would be a pleasure to watch. She is such a beautiful woman and with such free and easy manners. And so kind! He is a lucky man.”

A good deal of Amanda’s anticipation was dimmed. There was always something to mar the moment, she thought crossly. If it was not those wretched jewels and fear of arrest, it was listening to praise of Lady Mary.

They had only a short distance to travel to Lord and Lady Barton’s mansion, and Amanda wondered why people insisted on travelling a few streets by carriage. They had an hour to wait in the crush before they were finally deposited at the door. Flambeaux in iron brackets on the walls flared and spurted in the chilly air.

Sweet strains of music and the sound of dancing feet brought a flush of anticipation to Amanda’s pale face. She was at her first London ball. Lord Hawksborough was with her. And Lady Mary was not.

Amanda had dreamed of floating in Lord Hawksborough’s arms to the strains of the waltz while envious debutantes looked on. Sometimes Miss Devine would be there, and in her dreams Amanda would throw her a pitying look.

At first the evening promised to be something out of a fairy tale. Thousands of scented candles blazed on jewels and orders. The whole ballroom seemed a kaleidoscope of color and movement. The thin stuff of the ladies’ gowns fluttered to the movement of the dance. Diamonds caught fire under the glittering chandeliers. Names that were previously known to Amanda only through the social columns were murmured in her ear by Aunt Matilda, who had picked up a remarkable fund of gossip from the surrounding chaperones in the short time since she had entered the ballroom.

“There’s Mr. Brummell,” whispered Aunt Matilda, “and over there is Lady Jersey. The half-naked woman is Lady Sefton. The Prince said she had a fine bust and ’tis said she has barely covered herself since, even in the daytime. And there is Lord Byron with Lady Caroline Lamb, and beside him is his friend John Cam Hobhouse.”

Amanda sat out only one dance. But Lord Hawksborough did not come near her. He seemed in high spirits and danced with all the prettiest women in the room.

But the supper dance will be mine, thought Amanda. It would be most singular if he ignored me.

Richard had asked Susan for the supper dance and had been ungraciously accepted. But she
had
accepted, he thought with some amusement. He wondered what Susan would look like with a smile on her face.

A late party of arrivals entered the ballroom, and Richard stiffened and looked wildly around for Amanda. For the girl who had walked into the room was none other than the minx who had made him kiss her in the garden of the seminary.

And she saw him!

Her bold black eyes fastened on him immediately and he could see the smile of recognition on her face.

Anxiously he watched as she and a lady who was undoubtedly her mother stopped to talk to Mrs. Fitzgerald, and then all three started to walk towards him.

Mrs. Fitzgerald performed the introductions. The minx was called Betty Barrington, she whose charms Mrs. Fitzgerald had praised so warmly. Mrs. Fitzgerald and Mrs. Barrington turned to watch the dancers and Betty whispered to Richard, “I knew we should meet again. The next dance is the supper one. You may have it, if you wish.”

“That dance is already promised to Miss Fitzgerald,” said Richard.

“Then unpromise it,” said Betty, “or I shall tell
everyone
that you were asking about the time Lord Hawksborough’s carriage would leave on the very day it was robbed by highwaymen!”

Richard’s heart gave a lurch, and then he thought he saw a way out.

“You may tell them what you wish,” he said lightly, “but I wish you would not, because I am afraid everyone would guess at the real truth.”

“You wicked man. What is the real truth? Tell me during supper.”

She tugged at his arm, as Susan slouched forward.

“The truth is,” said Richard desperately, “that I once saw Susan Fitzgerald by chance and became so enamoured of her, I was determined to find a way to see her again. And, as you can see, I have.”

Susan stopped stock-still as if she had been shot and stared at Richard with a dazed look on her face.

“Oh,” pouted Betty, hunching a ruffled shoulder. Her quick eyes took in the strained look on Richard’s face and the dazed, bewildered look on Susan’s, and then she giggled. “I don’t believe a word of it. But I shall catch you again!”

She rapped his hand painfully with the sticks of her fan and moved away, still laughing at him over her shoulder.

“My dance, Miss Fitzgerald,” said Richard with his best bow. Susan nodded dumbly and moved into his arms. It was the waltz, and Richard had a sudden stab of fright in case he tripped over her feet, his own feet, or anyone else’s feet. But the angular set of bones that was Susan Fitzgerald seemed to melt in his arms and it was so easy to spin her around, so fascinating to watch that soft, doubtful look on her normally hard features.

Susan said hardly a word during supper, but Richard had a great deal to talk about, being full of his new life at Oxford, and so he found himself enjoying her undemanding company and felt quite sorry when the time came for them to go back to the ballroom.

As he left the supper room, he saw Amanda, sitting beside a young man. Betty Barrington had stopped to talk to her, and Amanda’s startled eyes caught Richard’s in a questioning look. He gave a faint shake of the head and smiled to show his unconcern. Somehow, he thought, I must get to Fox End and get the jewels. But how do I get Mr. Cartwright-Browne out of the way while I dig them up?

Amanda was alarmed and worried. Betty had introduced herself and then had said, “Your brother and I have a secret. I met him at Bellingham,” and Amanda had immediately known that Betty must be the pert young miss who had sent Richard to fetch the chocolate drops on the day of the highway robbery.

If Lord Hawksborough had partnered her at supper, then Amanda might have had something to take her mind off her fears. But he had chosen to invite an extremely dashing lady of mature years and doubtful morals.

Amanda was overcome by a desire to sulk. But the thought that she was supposed to be in training for that famous husband-catching Season to come made her try to pretend to be happy and flirtatious. She succeeded so well that Lord Hawksborough, watching her flying figure, thought she would be married before the Season even began.

He would have been amazed had he known that Miss Colby was so beset by worries that she could not remember the name of a single partner.

A few gentlemen had discovered that the unprepossessing Susan Fitzgerald danced like an angel. An even greater number became aware of her great dowry—a piece of intelligence which Mrs. Fitzgerald had been quick to spread about the room by dint of forcing Aunt Matilda to gossip for her.

And so, at first amused, and then slightly annoyed, Richard found it increasingly difficult to speak to Miss Fitzgerald, as she was, towards the end of the ball, constantly surrounded by a court of men.

She did not say much, but by dint of appearing to listen intently, she was accounted no end of a fine girl.

Amanda could only be glad when the evening was at last over. Her feet hurt and her head ached.

Lord Hawksborough withdrew to the library, saying he had letters to write as soon as they arrived back in Berkeley Square. He made a formal good-bye to the Colbys. He would be leaving early in the morning. He wished them well.

And that was that.

Amanda sat by the fire in her bedroom, wishing they had never come to London, wishing they had never held up that coach, wishing for her carefree life with Richard to come back again.

She was wearing only her nightgown and wrapper and nightcap and so when the door handle began to turn she called out sharply, “Who is there?” and pulled her wrapper more tightly over her breasts.

The door opened suddenly and Susan Fitzgerald slouched in. She crashed into an easy chair facing Amanda and scowled at the fire in silence.

“Did you enjoy the ball?” asked Amanda, after she felt she could bear the silence no longer.

“No.”

“Well, what
do
you enjoy?” demanded Amanda, wishing Susan would go away.

“All those things my mother calls unmaidenly,” said Susan bitterly. “Riding, hunting, fishing.”

“Oh, you should have lived with us at Fox End,” said Amanda sympathetically. “That was all I
did
do. I did not go to school, I did not have a governess. I had a great deal of household chores, of course, but they did not take the whole of the day.”

“Tell me about it,” said Susan in her abrupt way.

Amanda began to tell her, diffidently at first and then with greater enthusiasm, about the fun she and Richard had had such a short time ago, “when we were children,” Amanda nearly said.

Susan listened avidly, her chin on her hands, her face glowing.

“I should like that above all things,” she breathed, when Amanda had finished. “I am not even allowed to gallop in the Park.”

Amanda smiled. “Perhaps if I spoke to your mother, she would let us
both
go… if I promised we would go early when no one was about.”

“Ask her now,” said Susan.

“Now? I am in my nightclothes.”

“Pooh! Who’s to care? The servants are abed. Mama is in her room. Come with me!”

Susan turned and strode from the room. Amanda gave a sigh of exasperation and followed her.

Mrs. Fitzgerald was composing herself for sleep and not at all pleased to be disturbed by Miss Colby demanding that her daughter should be allowed to ride
ventre á terre
through Hyde Park at any hour of the day.

But she ungraciously gave her consent. Her son had told her that very day that he was sure Susan’s
farouche
behaviour was the cause of lack of confidence induced by her mother’s criticism.

Mrs. Fitzgerald had not believed a word of it, but she was rather in awe of her son, and so she said they might go, provided the hour was early enough and if they were accompanied by two footmen and the head groom.

When they had left her room and shut the door, Susan seized Amanda’s hand, gave a gruff thank-you, and fled off down the passageway.

Amanda followed more slowly. Mrs. Fitzgerald had promised the girls would be roused at eight in the morning. It was now, Amanda estimated, about five.

She stopped on the landing of the second floor and leaned over the banister, looking down at the short passage which led to the library on the first.

As she watched, Lord Hawksborough emerged, still in evening dress. She hung tightly onto the wood of the mahogany banister and said a silent farewell.

As if aware of being watched, he looked up. The second-floor landing was in darkness so Amanda was confident that he could not see her, although she could see him, as there was an oil lamp on a chest of drawers on the first landing.