An Improper Companion (11 page)

“I should say so!” Ellen answered.

I sighed. “Lady Mary believes I acted improperly.”

“Don’t you be listening to her!” Ellen said firmly. “You’ve more sense than she does. ’Tis odd, my lady, but though Lady Mary is respected in the castle, I think she is not liked.”

I was puzzled. Why should the servants dislike Mary? True, she was a dominating woman, but good-natured enough. I hoped she would not realise how the servants felt (or that Ellen was mistaken), for it would distress the poor soul.

Ellen’s voice interrupted my thoughts. “They say in the kitchens we’re to have another visitor, my lady.”

“Yes. The Earl of Pellen,” I said, rolling the title off my tongue. “He is expected today.”

“Shall I lay out a special gown for dinner?”

“Yes, though I cannot be sure he will arrive by then.”

“Best to be prepared,” Ellen admonished.

Downstairs, I discovered that the earl was a considerate man. Lord Pellen had sent a messenger from the inn to inform us of the hour of his arrival. The time had clearly been chosen to cause the minimum of inconvenience and I found myself looking forward to making the acquaintance of a man who would think of such things. Leslie had already been apprised of the note and given the necessary orders, the footman respectfully informed me. I thanked him and proceeded to join the others.

Everyone had gathered for tea. I was somewhat nervous since, aside from rare occasions at Mrs. Gilwen’s school, I had never poured for others. Yet I was glad of the practice now, for I knew it could not be long before I should need to serve as hostess often. Mary smiled at me reassuringly and Philip roasted us about our shopping expedition. Rather than setting up my back, his boyish banter made me feel comfortably at ease. Almost he could have been the brother I had never had but always imagined. Leslie alone was quiet, often regarding me with an odd look in his eyes. I wondered whether this were due to the impending arrival of Lord Pellen or my behaviour of the day before. Annoyed by Leslie’s reticence, I turned my full attention to Philip. He seemed flattered. So easily had I forgotten my resolution! Mary’s voice, however, soon recalled to us who and where we were.

Tea eventually over, Philip suggested that he and I take a turn in the garden. I refused, preferring to work at my needle and fearing his lordship might arrive early. I would also have nervously sought out Mrs. Morgan save that Leslie assured me that all was in a state of readiness. I should, of course, have realised that Lord Pellen would be punctual, arriving neither early nor late. The footman informed us of the approaching carriage, and Leslie and I waited on the steps to greet our guest.

The wind tugged at my curls and I felt a flutter inside as the man I had seen at the inn approached. At the proper moment, I curtsied and Lord Pellen took my hand, kissing it in the French manner. Face-to-face, I found the man younger and handsomer in appearance than I remembered. He stared rudely at me, as though evaluating a horse or hound. After a moment, he said to Leslie, “Quite presentable. You took us all by surprise in London. Didn’t know what the devil to expect.”

Leslie raised an eyebrow and shrugged. Angered, I wondered if I must expect all Leslie’s friends to make so careful a scrutiny when we appeared in London. Already I began to dislike his lordship. But then Pellen turned to me and smiled. “Forgive me, Lady Kinwell. I do not mean to be rude. I was simply startled to discover that so lovely a young lady could exist in London without my knowledge.”

I smiled, but there was that in his voice that disturbed me, and I distrusted his cozening tongue. Yet I said, graciously enough, “Ah, but Sir Leslie married me out of the schoolroom, my lord. So it seems unlikely you should have had reason to see me.”

Still smiling, he bowed lightly and offered me his arm. We entered the castle and Mary and Philip somehow appeared. As the one made a deep curtsy and the other a bow Leslie said, “My sister, Lady Mary Gainesfield. Her son. Philip. Lord Pellen.”

Lord Pellen kissed Mary’s hand as gracefully as he had kissed mine and retained it a moment longer than necessary. “I am enchanted,” he said. “I have often seen you in Town, have I not? You have a fondness for the opera, I believe.” Mary was flustered by the knowledge that the earl had deigned to notice her. Yes, he certainly had charm, I admitted to myself. And the moment’s extra pressure on an older woman’s hand could scarcely fail to flatter. It was becoming clear that his lordship was either an accomplished diplomat or a charming rake. He moved on to Philip. “Ah, young Gainesfield. I have heard good things of you, although with a warning that you are a scapegrace! Sometime we must discuss our college experiences. I am curious to discover whether my generation or yours has the most imagination.”

Philip flushed with pleasure. I stepped forward, “My lord, may we offer you refreshment?”

“No, no, Lady Kinwell,” he replied kindly, “but if I may be shown to my room...”

Leslie beckoned to a waiting footman. “The oak room, John,” he said.

The hour of his lordship’s appearance allowed us an hour and a half to dress for dinner. Thus, as soon as he had disappeared up the stairway we scattered to our own rooms. Ellen had laid out an evening dress of green silk trimmed with flounces that left, it seemed to me, too much of my bosom bare. But I accepted Ellen’s assurances that it was the kick of fashion and that no one would consider me immodest. With greater care than usual, she dressed my hair. Then, as I was admiring my reflection in the glass, I heard a knock at the door. “Sir Leslie!” Ellen said in surprise.

I turned to see him standing in the doorway, looking splendid in his evening clothes. For a moment he did not speak, but stared at me. Abruptly, he thrust something into Ellen’s hands and said to me, “You are to wear these tonight.” Then he was gone. Much astonished, Ellen closed the door and brought me the box. It was a simple one and did not prepare me for what lay inside: a necklace, bracelet, and earrings. “The Kinwell emeralds!” Ellen whispered.

I laughed. “Truly, Ellen, you are much better informed than I! Tell me what you mean.”

As she set about fastening the necklace about my throat she explained, “Well, my lady. They’d said in the kitchen there were a goodly amount of Kinwell jewels. The emeralds in particular are known, though they say Sir Leslie has a set of rubies and diamonds, too. Well! According to tradition, the wife of the eldest son is supposed to receive the jewels. I’d begun to wonder if you would. There, my lady. You be ready.”

I stared in the glass again, looking in vain for the shy, penurious young girl who had fled from the schoolroom less than a month before. But I only beheld the image of young Lady Kinwell and felt a stranger to her. I had no time to wonder over this, however, as Ellen reminded me I must not be late.

Fortunately, only Leslie was waiting. He looked at me briefly, before turning away to pour himself a drink. I realised then that he intended to give no explanations. Mary entered a moment later and halted when she saw me. Her mouth gaped open and she said in a strange voice, “You ... you’ve given her the emeralds, Leslie?”

He answered curtly, “Yes. Why not? She is, after all, Lady Kinwell.”

Mary’s eyes narrowed, “Does this mean...?”

The question hung for a moment, unfinished. “Don’t be a widgeon,” Leslie snapped. “You must know I have no interest in tradition. I simply felt it was time Heather had them.” He added coolly, “Besides, Pellen would think it strange if she wore no jewels.”

“You could have given her the rubies!” Mary retorted. There was a tension in the room I could not comprehend. Then Leslie said, “With that dress, sister? Don’t be absurd.” Mary turned her back on him and I felt a desire to respond to both in kind. Need they speak so cryptically? The pleasure I had felt over the emeralds began to fade, destroyed by
the agitation
of Mary and the casual attitude of Leslie. To her the matter was too important. To him, it seemed, not at all. Hearing Philip and Lord Pellen’s voices in the hallway, we three turned as one to the doorway, wearing the calm smiles the social occasion demanded of us. As they entered the room I again felt Pellen’s appraising stare on me. Good God! I wondered. Can it be he is ...
interested
I must discover from Mary if he could be such a loose-screw as that. If so, Leslie must speak to him. Otherwise his visit would be unbearable.

My impression grew as his lordship insisted on escorting me in to dinner. I looked at Leslie questioningly, but he merely smiled and nodded and took Mary’s arm. Philip followed alone. I was not altogether surprised to discover that his lordship had been seated next to me, but I began to feel uncomfortably aware of his attention.

From the first moment, Lord Pellen dominated the conversation. It was not that the rest of us were intimidated by him, it was simply that he was capable of turning any subject to the course he wished it to take. Yet unless one watched closely, as I did, it seemed he was deferring to the wishes of those around him. I began to wonder just who this man was whom my husband had invited to visit. I gleaned from his words the knowledge that he was active in the House of Lords. And I had the impression he was considered important. Yet I had never heard of him. I would have questioned him on his views of the Com Laws, but he early stated that he felt politics an interest totally unsuitable for women. Courtesy forbade my commenting on this as I should have liked to. The talk turned, naturally, to horses but was turned away again when Lord Pellen noted my lack of interest. This consideration, however, only irritated me further, as I had no desire to be so closely observed by this man. He then spoke to Mary of the latest London fashions. I listened with but half an ear since I felt it would be some time before I should need any new clothes. And in any event I trusted Mademoiselle Suzette to choose her styles well. Again I felt as though Lord Pellen were aware of my lack of interest. At one point, Philip questioned him as to his university escapades. His lordship laughed and shook his head. “No, I shall not discuss them here,” he said. “We must confer in private. I should not wish to shock your mother or your aunt or uncle.”

We all laughed pleasantly. Then, to my surprise, he transferred his attention openly to me. “I understand you attended Mrs. Gilwen’s school for young ladies.”

“Yes, I did.”

Then followed a catechism concerning the subjects I had studied and the accomplishments I had, or rather, had not acquired. Forced to deny any musical or artistic skill, I began to grow embarrassed. Philip startled us with the words, “Well, at any event, she learned how to deliver babies.”

Mary’s shocked voice rang out in the silence. “Philip!”

I blushed deeply and stared at my plate. Lord Pellen turned an enquiring eye on Leslie, who described my adventure of the day before, making light of the matter. Yet to my ears, there was a note of discomfort in his voice. As it died away I felt Pellen’s speculative eye on me again. But all he said was, “Well, well, you are an original, Lady Kinwell.”

“Indeed?” I said coldly.

Leslie frowned at me, but his lordship was only amused at my rudeness. “Pray don’t be angry with me, Lady Kinwell,” he said easily. “I simply find you fascinating. And not only I. I daresay many people in London eagerly await your appearance in the
ton.
After all his years of bachelorhood, everyone wants to see the woman Sir Leslie succumbed to.” My fingers clenched so tightly the nails dug into my palm. I wondered if I appeared as angry as I felt. There was that in. Pellen’s manner that convinced me he knew the truth, and I felt sick with fear that others knew as well. All that remained was for this man to taunt me for my lack of ancestry. Leslie spoke then, his words light but his voice a warning. “Ah, my lord, they will need but one look at Heather to understand my surrender.”

I forced myself to take a sip of wine and this steadied me somewhat. Yet I was still upset and even now cannot remember aught of what was said between then and when we rose from the table. The men declined port and we all left together. As though sensing my feelings (though perhaps they were obvious), Leslie took my arm before Lord Pellen could offer to escort me out. His lordship merely smiled and bowed to Mary, who was suitably appreciative of his graciousness.

The earl, it appeared, was extremely fond of whist. I was delighted, as this would easily occupy the others all evening and I would be free to do my needlework. I had not anticipated Mary or Lord Pellen’s reaction to this suggestion. “Oh, but Heather, dear,” Mary protested. “I am not overly fond of cards. Surely you would prefer to play?”

Determined not to be so trapped, I replied, “Ah, but I have no knowledge of the game.”

“How terrible!” Pellen exclaimed. “Then there can be no dispute, Lady Kinwell. You must join us and we shall teach you. You cannot enter the
ton
ignorant of whist.”

I looked at Leslie, pleadingly, but he agreed with the earl. Seeing no escape, I gave in graciously. So the table was set up and the cards brought. I grew increasingly upset with myself. Not only must I still play, I should also be forced to listen to them explaining rules I well knew. And I should have to be careful to play as a novice would. I had lied to no purpose.

The first few rounds were as boring as was to be expected as the others attempted to show me how best to play. Gradually, however, the play began in earnest. Pellen concentrated on his cards and gave no further excuse for me to take offense. Leslie was my partner, and once or twice, I saw him glance at me quizzically and
I
would take care to play poorly for a while. Philip, now and again, would speak encouragingly and compliment me on taking up the game so quickly. We played till quite late, halting only when a footman informed us a late supper had been laid out. This time I could not evade Lord Pellen and I took his arm. Cards had relaxed me, however, and I felt less of my earlier antipathy toward him. “You’ve a head for cards,” he said.