Babe (18 page)

A few examples of his attempts at it, and his subsequent failures, made up his conversation till they reached the Argyle Rooms on Regent’s Street, where the ball was in progress. It was no longer early, but one unique feature of the Cyprians’ Ball was the lateness of its beginning, as so many of the escorts had first to deliver their wives or fiancées elsewhere, and stay an hour to keep up appearances. It was early enough that the scene had not yet become very indecorous. She had attended less well-run polite parties. Most of the gentlemen were recognized by her, and a few of the ladies as well, by sight only. To stand and watch, it would not occur to anyone she was at a prostitutes’ ball. The gowns were as fine, the jewels in as great abundance, somewhat greater perhaps, the music and refreshments similar to any ton party, while the rooms were elegant and well maintained. After getting the general idea of the affair, Barbara began looking around for Clivedon. She saw several faces that surprised her – husbands of
grandes dames
, and high sticklers whom she would never have expected to be in a place like this. She wondered who was escorting their wives at Staunton’s do—partners there must be in short supply tonight. She smiled to see Mrs. Waring’s husband, said to be “indisposed,” so that his wife had cadged a drive with Lady Withers tonight.

Several heads turned to observe Romeo and herself as they entered, causing a shiver of dread to scuttle down her spine. The mask was out of place—there were no masks worn. She set it aside and raised the fan to cover all but her eyes. When the music struck up, she went with Romeo to the dance floor and took her place in a set. The gentlemen all flirted with her, and Romeo, she noticed, was enjoying himself with the harlots quite as much as if she were not present. She realized suddenly, when this caused her nothing but amusement, that she did not love him in the least. He was terribly beautiful, he was interesting, he was rich, people said, but he was utterly impossible to take seriously. How could you love a man you couldn’t take seriously?

No one recognized her, but when several very good friends of Fannie Atwood entered, she decided it was time to retire to a quiet corner. It was becoming late, and still Clivedon had not come. She had seen a Cyprians’ Ball now, and her only other reason for being there was to vex Clivedon so she decided to go home.

“Not just yet, my dear,” Romeo told her. “There is a ravishing lady I have to meet. She does not have a lover. I want to arrange to come back to her after I take you home. You aren’t angry with me, I hope? I don’t love her. Merely our bodies are in harmony.”

“Arrange it quickly, then,” she said with annoyance.

“You are angry with me.”

“I assure you I am not. Please hurry.”

“You are perfect, you know. I never met a woman before who was not jealous. We shall deal famously. That is an heroic quality—lack of jealousy. I wish I had it, but I am very jealous of Lord Clydesmare. I hate him,” he said gently.

“Do hurry, please,” she repeated. He kissed her wrist and wandered off.

Watching Romeo make his assignation, Barbara’s eyes were turned from the entranceway when Clivedon came in. He moved rather quickly down the far side of the room and, still watching her own escort, she saw with infinite dismay that he had led his ravishing lady to the floor for a waltz. Heavens, she’d be here all night!

It was not to be expected that a pretty damsel would be long unmolested at such a daring spot as this, and before long a young buck came up to her to request a dance. Her chagrin was great to recognize Herbie Webster, whom she knew as well as she knew anyone, and certainly he would recognize her too if she couldn’t be rid of him quickly. She raised her fan against her cheek, and shook her head in a firm negative.

“Come on, then, it’s no fun sitting alone, my pretty. Have a dance with me.”

“No, thank you. I am waiting for someone,” she said, disguising her voice.

“You’ll have a long wait. Lord Romeo has replaced you, my girl. I know who you were with, and that boy will do you no good. He’s a mere stripling.”

“Please go away.”

“Not till you’ve given me a dance.”

Becoming desperate, she said, “Leave me at once, or I shall scream.”

“That’s not a good way to find yourself a rich patron, my little lightskirt.”

“It’s news to me if you have two pennies to rub together, Mr. Webster,” she answered sharply.

“Oho, you know my name! Now, how does it come I don’t know a pretty little piece like you?” He put his fingers to her fan to try to pull it away.

“Stop it at once,” she said angrily, and struck at him with her fan.

She was more horrified than relieved to see Clivedon rear up behind Herbie Webster, very obviously coming to her aid. When had he arrived?

“Is this gentleman bothering you, ma’am?” he asked.

“Very much,” she said in a voice that was not likely to betray her, it sounded so very unlike her own low tones.

It was high-pitched, nervous.

“Here’s a bird more to your liking—well plumed!” Webster said ironically, sneering at her. “Take care, Clivedon. The muslin company is well organized this season, and has got our fortunes all written up in a book. This one admits she’s after the money.”

“May I join you?” Clivedon asked, with an unconcerned look after Webster’s retreating form.

She could hardly credit her awful luck. “No!” she said, still in a nervous squeak. “That is—I—thank you, but I am waiting for someone.” He sat down all the same, uninvited.

“Tell me his name, and I shall send him to you,” he replied, looking hard at her. She kept her fan well up and her eyes cast down, only risking one peep at him. She shook her head in a firm negative in reply to his suggestion.

“This is nonsense, you know,” he went on, throwing one leg over the other and leaning back in an attitude that bespoke of an intention of lingering. “You’ll not be long left alone at a place like this. You’re new around here, aren’t you?”

She nodded and looked away, raising her fan high to hide her profile. And still that moonling of a Romeo was smiling at his friend, oblivious of the lady he had brought.

“Good God! Don’t tell me it’s Lord Romeo you’re waiting for!” Clivedon exclaimed, following the line of her eyes.

This came too close to revealing her identity to risk another word, or another minute in his company. She arose and fled the room, with just one frightened glance over her shoulder at Clivedon. She took the idea he was laughing about something. Her plan was to leave at once and alone, in Romeo’s carriage. She could send the rig back for him.

Romeo had been keeping a sort of half-eye on her while he flirted with his other lady. When he recognized the second man with her to be Clivedon, he had become angry, and when he saw her depart so precipitously he took after her, leaving a very surprised female standing alone in the middle of the dance floor. He stopped only to vent his wrath on Clivedon. “What have you said to upset her?” he demanded in an angrier tone than he generally used.

“Got yourself a new chick, Romeo?” Clivedon asked. “That exquisite taste of yours is deteriorating. I liked your other one better.”

“You are incredibly stupid,” Romeo told him, then fortunately left before revealing the entire devastating truth.

He caught Barbara up at the door. “What did Clysehorn say to you?” he asked solicitously.

“Nothing of the least importance. We must go at once.”

“I do hate that man,” Romeo said, but he was calmer now, and put no particular emphasis on the words. “He’ll steal Adele while I’m gone,” he went on as they got into the carriage. “But I'll take you home, my dear. I wouldn’t dream of abandoning you to your own devices, though you would certainly be safe enough in my carriage. It would not be the proper thing to do, and you would probably hold it against me if I did. It seems a foolish waste of time to me, but I’m not complaining.”

“It certainly sounds as if you are!”

“But I’m not, my beloved. If he’s stolen Adele by the time I get back, I’ll challenge him to a wrestling match. I am a very good wrestler. I broke Spiro’s wrist—accidentally—once in Athens. I wonder if that is why he contrives the handles of his vases so poorly.”

Lady Barbara found that Clivedon’s stealing of Adele offended her senses in a way that Adele’s stealing Romeo had not. She was very indignant on Romeo’s behalf, and urged him to return with the greatest speed.

He delivered her to the rose garden on Cavendish Square. “When shall I see you again?” he asked her.

“I’m not sure. You’d better not come back, Romeo. They will already be angry you were here tonight.”

“We must make plans for our elopement,” he reminded her.

“I am not eloping with you. You’d better go, or he will have stolen Adele.”

“Our marriage is more important. Nothing must stand in the way of that. But really, I find myself anxious about losing Adele too. Leave it all to me. I shall make the arrangements and be in touch with you by some means. Don’t doubt my ingenuity. I am very clever at arranging elopements,” he assured her.

“Have you arranged many before?” she was curious enough to ask.

“No, but I have contrived dozens of illicit meetings, and the procedure is quite similar, I should think. It is the getting out of the house that is difficult. It is very exciting, fooling the oldsters, isn’t it? Elopement is my very favorite way of marrying. But I refuse to go to Scotland, my heart. I hope you have not quite settled on Gretna Green.”

She could assure him with the greatest sincerity that she had not the least interest in being married over the anvil.

“May I kiss you then, before I leave?” he asked.

With a smile between amusement and annoyance, she raised her lips and kissed his cheek. “That was not what I meant,” he told her, and folded her in his arms for a much more passionate embrace, from which she had to use all her strength to extricate herself. He was a good wrestler, but Babe was not completely unversed in fighting off persistent embraces, and eventually got away from him.

“I look forward to you,” he told her, with deep breaths, then added, “but I must go back to Adele now. I love you, Aphrodite.”

Chapter Sixteen

Clivedon stood looking after the fleeing form of the un-known Cyprian with a frown on his face. One usually heard rumors of a new Incognita on the scene, and he had heard nothing of a wide-eyed redhead hitting town. That was all he had seen, the eyes and the wig. With the brows darkened, he had not thought for a moment he might know the girl under another name. It was not till he saw her looking towards Romeo that he thought much of it, but when she arose to run off, so nervous, he looked hard at her lithe figure, her light step, and was pretty certain he had seen it before, and often.

He went to rescue Adele from her stranding, to see what he could find out from her. “Young Lord Romeo is burning the candle at both ends this evening,” he mentioned, smiling lightly.

“One candle and one flare,” he was told by a pertly smiling young female, whose hopes soared to have come to Clivedon’s attention.

“Who was the young candle? A new girl, isn’t she?”

“Whoever she is, he’s mighty shy of introducing her around. Funny he’d bring her here then leave her and come trotting after me.”

“Some of us have a little trouble resisting the irresistible,” he returned gallantly.

“Not that one! He doesn’t bother trying. He says and does whatever he wants. I never met such a queer nabs. But he’s handsome as can stare. Got a real way with him. I figure I haven’t seen the last of him. Said he’d be back. If it was me he’d brought in the first place, he’d hear about it. But he said the girl—lady he called her—was anxious to get home before somebody or other saw her. Borrowed somebody’s light o’ love, I daresay, unless she was a lady.”

“Not she! I spent a few moments in her company,” he said at once, then turned the conversation to other matters. Adele had only one subject on her mind, however, and had soon turned it right back to Romeo.

“He’s queer in the head, not a doubt of it. Oh, are you leaving so soon?” she asked, disappointed. The waltz was just finished.

“I have just remembered a very important matter left unattended.”

“What’s her name?” Adele asked saucily. “You gents are kept hopping tonight, trying to be in two places at once.”

Clivedon had his carriage called, and bolted at once to Cavendish Square to request an interview with Lady Barbara, though it was by this time well after eleven o’clock.

“Lady Barbara is sleeping, milord,” the butler told him.

“Please awaken her. It is urgent.”

Clivedon was bowed into the Crimson Saloon. He was no sooner seated than the housekeeper entered to empty her budget regarding the visit of Lord Romeo. “He arrived not long after nine, and I remained in the room with them, as her ladyship asked me to. His visit was short and proper in every detail. Very proper,” she said. Like all the women in the house, she was a champion of Lord Romeo.

“Lady Withers did not leave orders to keep him out?” he asked, unhappy with this disobedience from his sister.

“No, milord, she asked me to sit with them if he came, which I did, and I just thought I’d tell you, as there was mention of an urgent matter.” This last was a direct hint for information, but it went unanswered.

“Thank you,” was all he said.

“Her ladyship hasn’t stirred from her room since,” the woman added. He nodded his head, biting back the question that bothered him. Had anyone actually looked to see if she was there? He’d know soon enough.

Lady Barbara had no sooner sneaked back to her room and pulled off the wig and mauve lutestring gown than a servant was knocking on her door with Clivedon’s message. “His lordship says it’s very important,” the servant called in, for the door had not been opened.

“Very well. Ask him to wait,” she answered in a sleepy voice, then she scrambled into a dressing gown, removed the eyebrow pencil from her brows with cream, creamed off the rouge, and hastily brushed out her hair A glance in her mirror told her she looked too excited, and too rosy from all her rubbing, to pass muster as having been disturbed from a deep sleep. It couldn’t be helped. He couldn’t possibly know. He was only suspicious. She would be on her high horse, grossly insulted at this call, and she wished her heart would stop hammering against her ribs.