Corey McFadden (31 page)

“But this naughty little escapade nearly caught them in their own trap. Why, Bettina has all but said the two are betrothed,” Miss Worth put in. At least she seemed to be coming round to the new version.

“Indeed. Why it would serve the two of them right to be leg-shackled together for the rest of their lives,” Dolly Haverford pronounced. They had all pitched their voices a bit louder to compete with the musicians, who were, in turn, competing with an ever-growing crowd. It was growing warm, too. Or, perhaps Edgar was feeling he’d been on the griddle a bit too long. At least they hadn’t focused on his part in all this.

“Why, Mr. Randall, you were there with Lady Haverford, weren’t you?” Henrietta Blanchard announced loudly. All eyes turned to him. The room got suddenly very hot, indeed. “What did you think of all this nonsense?”

“Well, I must say I thought it quite queer at the time. Didn’t ring true at all. Why, I know full well that Julian Thorpe and Miss Quinn want nothing to do with one another in that regard. The girl is over the moon about Rokeby—can’t think why—he has the wit of a brick, but you know how
les demoiselles
can be, And dear Julian is, indeed, quite smitten with the Quinn cousin. He’s already written to the mother to offer for her.” He paused briefly, waiting for this stone to sink. He saw the light go on in several pairs of eyes. “And, too, it simply did not look right. I believe my eyesight is a bit stronger than that of the dear ladies, who were, as they will, nattering to one another as we entered the maze...” he paused and bestowed a conspiratorial smile on Dolly Haverford, one inveterate gossip saluting another. “But it appeared to me at first glance that Julian and Caroline were just waiting for something, not standing particularly close. They sprang into action on sight of her mother and Lady Haverford. And Julian looked positively horrified to find Miss Elspeth Quinn there. I must say”—he was warming to his role now—“that I, too, feel that I have been unfairly singled out as the butt....”

“Did you say young Julian is smitten with the Quinn cousin, Mr. Randall?” one of the biddies interrupted peremptorily, getting, as he had hoped they would, to the heart of the matter.

“Oh, indeed, so I understand, Jane.” Lady Haverford seized control of the floor again. “That was part of the reason Caroline and Julian decided to act when they did, although to be sure, they had intended for Bettina to be so outdone with Julian’s alleged ungentlemanly behavior that she would foist him, herself, onto the cousin. But, as you can see, the best-laid plans....”

From something of a distance, Edgar could see that Thomas and Robert had entered the Assembly Rooms. Indeed, they were hard to miss. Every lady in the place should look to her own comparatively drab attire in shame. His feet itched to take him away. He looked around at the group. It had grown in the last few moments by another half dozen ladies, and he could hear it all starting over again. “Oh, I have been sadly abused, Tabitha,” Lady Haverford was saying. “To have been the butt....”

Surely he could make his escape now. With a general bow in the direction of precisely no one, he spun, gracefully, he hoped, and very nearly knocked into Herself, the Viscountess Alderson. Gad, but the woman knew how to turn up at the most inopportune times!

“Mr. Randall,” she said, doing that marvelous thing with her eyebrows. He simply must figure out how it was done.

“Ah, and a good evening to you, your ladyship. I do so hope you are well, this evening,”

“Wouldn’t be here if I weren’t, of course,” she snapped.

By now, naturally, all conversation among the biddies had ceased. A viscountess preceded everyone in the ladies’ circle, and her appearance at Edgar’s shoulder was more interesting, even, than the subject at hand. Scandals, after all, could be so short-lived.
Or revived, if boredom necessitated.

“Good evening, Dolly, Henrietta,” she said, nodding distantly around the rest of the circle.

“Oh, good evening, Lady Alderson.” Lady Haverford beamed around the circle, clearly delighted at the personal recognition.

“Please do not allow me to interrupt your animated discussion. Do go on,” she announced, as if calling for a performance. To Edgar, who was at least marginally a part of these doings, the cue was obvious, but no one else seemed to pick up on it.

“Oh, madam,” gushed Dolly, “we were just discussing how sadly abused I have been by these young people and their sorry little jest. You all may remember”—she beamed around the circle again—“that it was Viscountess Alderson, herself, who explained to me that what I had seen was a charade, nothing less! Isn’t that right, your ladyship?”

“Indeed, it is.” Viscountess Alderson gave a slight tap with her cane for emphasis. “Why, I feel much abused myself in this matter. I had thought that there was to be an announcement of Miss Caroline Quinn’s betrothal to Julian Thorpe at my ball last night, but what the young people had secretly planned was to announce his engagement to the cousin instead—what’s that child’s name, Mr. Randall? Sweet thing, very mannerly.”

“That would be Miss Elspeth Quinn, madam, lately of Weston-under-Lizard,” he replied without missing a beat. Deftly done, m’lady, thought Edgar, giving the Imprimatur to the heretofore-ignored Elspeth. The biddies would fall all over her after this rare sanctification.

“It was meant to be a surprise, and, I must say, a cut down, to all of us,” the viscountess went on. “Bettina Quinn most of all. Apparently some sort of set down to Bettina for what Caroline considered untoward meddling—the very idea that a mother has not the right to meddle in her daughter’s marriage plans! I declare I don’t know what these young people today can possibly be thinking. Why, civilization, itself, is on the very brink of destruction, if a mother is not to select her daughter’s husband.”

He edged himself out of the circle. His work was done here. The biddies were hanging on the viscountess’s every word, nodding and frowning at the perfidies of the Younger Generation. Elspeth was Saved. Caroline was in the briers, as was Julian, apparently, but it was the sort of high-handed escapade that was to be expected of Young People, and soon forgotten. He supposed there would be some confusion and skepticism among the young people themselves. But in the face of a united front of old biddies determined to believe the viscountess’s version, they would have to yield. Speaking of whom, perhaps now would be a good time to bring Thomas and Robert into the new version. And, besides, he had a bet he needed to call off. It seemed no one had won after all.

* * * *

It had been, Elspeth thought to herself, a most uncomfortable carriage ride from the Quinn home to the Assembly Rooms. Barely a word spoken among the three Quinn ladies, none of them civil. Caroline sat in a corner of the carriage huddled in a dark ball of rage. Elspeth had even heard her cousin muttering to herself along the way. Aunt Bettina was clearly befuddled and alarmed by Caroline’s behavior. She had attempted several light remarks and had been utterly rebuffed by her daughter. Now Bettina, too, sat in a huddled ball, as if afraid to make further social effort. Elspeth, herself, could hardly bring herself to notice. The two ladies could have been riding stark naked on the top of the carriage for all Elspeth could care. She could barely keep from singing out loud. Again and again, the most unmaidenly images from this afternoon’s most unorthodox bath rose before her mind’s eye. She was grateful that the dark of the carriage prevented her companions from seeing the blush and smile that seemed to have taken up permanent residence on her face. Julian loved her! He would set everything to rights; he had promised. Indeed, she had reason to believe he had already set the wheels in motion. Harry had come sneaking into her room again, early this evening, and had reported that Mr. Thorpe was downstairs in the drawing room speaking to Caroline. Elspeth would have given the world to eavesdrop, but she couldn’t, for the life of her, figure out how to manage it without running a terrible risk of being caught out.

Elspeth had waited by her door inside her bedroom after shooing Harry away. The boy had gotten entirely too much of an education on this visit, she thought, ruefully. He had left her bedroom door slightly ajar, and she did not shut it. Her patience was rewarded a few moments later by the sound of heavy footsteps pounding up the stairs. Elspeth peeked out into the dark hallway in time to see her cousin flying by, her face a mask of rage. Caroline ran full tilt into her own bedroom and slammed the door shut behind her. Elspeth could hear the sound of the bolt being shot home. Oh, how she longed to find out what had transpired, but she knew she would have to be patient. Best to let dear Julian handle matters himself. After all, they would have the rest of their lives for him to regale her with the details.

She dipped her head as the carriage passed under a street lamp that threw its light into the dark interior. Again, came the feel of him pressed hot and hard up and down the length of her, and she nearly gasped at the thought as her stomach fluttered with a heretofore unknown pleasure. A lifetime of Julian touching her....

“We need not stay long if you are indisposed, Caroline,” Aunt Bettina offered somewhat timidly.

“I am perfectly ‘disposed,’ Mama. We will stay as long as I wish to,” Caroline snarled in the dark, and Aunt Bettina held her peace.

The street lanterns were spaced more closely together now, and Elspeth could feel the carriage slowing as they neared their destination. She schooled her face into what she hoped was a cool, composed mask, glad that the world could not see inside her, where her stomach was turning Catherine wheels, and her mind reviewed scenes no decent maiden should know enough to conjure. Julian would be there tonight, she just knew it. She could not imagine how the evening would progress—something was bound to happen—but she could walk into the room knowing that Julian loved her, and only her. That was enough to raise her chin high.

The carriage stopped and the door was flung open by the Quinn footman. Was it Elspeth’s imagination, or did he give her a veiled grin as he handed her down? Oh, heavens, was her private business to be the talk of Bath, below stairs? At least they could not possibly know about the interlude with Julian in her boudoir!

Despite her joy, her heart pounded as she walked behind her aunt and cousin. Caroline, Elspeth noted, seemed to undergo a remarkable transformation. By the time her cousin stepped into the Assembly Rooms, one would have thought her to be the most delightful, carefree young lady in England. Aunt Bettina cast several anxious looks in her daughter’s direction, and seemed satisfied that Caroline would behave herself.

Elspeth took a quick look about the room, seeking a certain tall, handsome gentleman. Her heart dropped a little when she could not spot him, although, to be sure, there were several rooms available to the public, including card rooms, and he could be in any of them.

A low voice at her elbow made her start. “I wonder, Miss Quinn, if you are aware that things have taken a decided turn for the better since the ball last night.” It was Edgar Randall. She hardly knew how to react. Harry’s jumbled version of events had cast Edgar as one of the chief villains of the piece, although it seemed he might have had a change of heart. At least he had attempted to get Caroline to cry off, and had then confessed all to Viscountess Alderson this afternoon. Of course, the most hardened criminal in all of England would spill everything to Viscountess Alderson, should she set her mind to obtaining the confession. So was Edgar Randall friend or foe? And either way, could she trust him to stay that way for long?

He smiled rather wanly at her. “I can see you are trying to work out where I stand in all this glorious mess, Miss Quinn,” he offered. He seemed rather subdued compared to his usual self.

“I can’t quite think what to say, Mr. Randall,” she offered, unable to keep her tone from sounding chilly.

“I understand, really I do,” he said. “I don’t know that this is the place to explain myself—indeed, I hardly can explain some of my actions—but it is the place to offer you my abject apologies for the pain I’ve caused you. The only defense I have at all is that I truly did not understand that you and Julian love each other. I thought it was simply one of those mindless, fan-tapping flirtations that one engages in several times a day in Bath. Of course, that’s still no defense at all...” he trailed off, staring intently at her. He was clearly terribly uncomfortable. The smooth and urbane Mr. Randall looked as if he couldn’t find the next word to utter. Elspeth was not ready to forgive him. Considering the pain he had caused her, not to mention Julian, she was not sure she ever would. She held her tongue.

“Well, I cannot blame you if you never forgive me. I wouldn’t if I were you. But please allow me to say that I am shamed beyond measure, that I’ve wished a thousand times to undo everything, and, indeed, I have done so. Or,”—he looked around hurriedly—“I must say, I’ve had help in the matter. Viscountess Alderson and Lady Haverford, between them, have set the story straight.”

Elspeth could sense from his face and words that he was truly abject in his apology. It was not like her to hold a grudge. On the other hand, no one in her entire lifetime in Weston-under-Lizard had ever attempted to ruin every shred of happiness for her. She supposed it was only fair to forgive him. Forgetting was another matter.

“I shall take you at your word, Mr. Randall, and accept your apology,” she said. But she could produce no smile to go along with the words.

“Well, I shall have to settle for that, then, shan’t I? Better than I deserve, I must say.” He took the opportunity to offer her his arm. “Shall we take a stroll around the room? I should catch you up on where things stand at the moment.”

“Have you seen Mr. Thorpe?” Elspeth asked, placing her hand as lightly as she could on his arm.

“Any number of times today, actually. The man is beginning to take up quite a great deal of my time—not”—he held up his other hand in response to the look that crossed Elspeth’s face—“that I don’t owe him every minute of it.”

They had begun their stately ambling. Heads were turning in her direction, Elspeth noticed, but while there had been knowing smirks and elbow-punching last night, tonight there were looks of confusion, speculation, a few conspiratorial, inclusive nods. Something had changed all right.