Emily Hendrickson (3 page)

“Aunt Elinor,” Lady Chloe said with more composure than Julian would have thought she could summon. She performed a commendable curtsy to her aunt. “I am not in the least surprised to see you here.”

Julian barely refrained from a shocked gasp of his own. They were related? Incredible. He darted glances between the two women and waited, deciding it might be better to see what they said before jumping in with some comment of his own that might make things worse.

That Elinor Hadlow found Lady Chloe’s remark startling was an understatement to say the least. Her eyes narrowed briefly, then a thin smile formed on her dainty lips.

“Lady Chloe,” she purred with apparent censure, “it
is
a surprise to see you closeted with a scoundrel such as Mr. St. Aubyn. What will your grandmama say to this?” Although her voice teased, the look in her eyes implied that Chloe had better watch her step most carefully.

“Nothing. For I have not been closeted with this gentleman. We merely exchanged a few words when I ventured in here—and this is an open area—to look at the pretty lights hanging in the garden. I fancy that is why you are here as well. Lady Purcell is famous for her lovely display of lights, or so I have been told.” Lady Chloe turned to face Julian and curtsied again. “I thank you for your kindness in sparing a few words for a green girl.”

Julian watched the young woman glide with amazing composure from the room. He sensed she was badly shaken, but you would never guess it from her outward behavior. He must try to see her again, continue what they had begun. He felt it important to assist her in avoiding marriage to Twisdale. That this was the first time in a good many years that his interest in a woman was one of sympathy and support without a romantic connection escaped him completely. He felt a kinship to one who was as intent on avoiding marriage as he was.

“Raiding the nursery, Julian?” Elinor jibed as she swiftly crossed the room to confront him. “Even if my silly niece has forgotten the dangers of being alone with a gentleman, you ought to remember. You usually take great care to avoid a situation where you might be compromised.” She smiled archly up at him, baring her teeth in a charming smile.

“You ought to know better than to think I could be charmed by an innocent,” he said in reply. Julian wrinkled his nose at the musky scent Elinor wore, contrasting it with the delightful heliotrope perfuming Lady Chloe’s handkerchief.

Elinor quickly relented, apparently deciding that it was far better to cajole than scold. “Forgive me, Julian. Since Hadlow breathed his last my nerves have been overset. Lawyers are so dreadfully tedious with all their talk of jointures and allowances and dower houses.” She formed a moue with her dainty lips, then said, “I fear that I will be required to move from Hadlow House quite soon. My husband’s son writes that he wishes to take possession of the house before long. One would think he might wait a while,” she grumbled.

Then she caught herself up and smiled at Julian. “However, you may have the pleasure of assisting me to locate a suitable house of my own, for I have no wish to share a roof with my stepson and his family.” She trailed a finger along Julian’s sleeve, smiling up into his eyes with a look that promised everything he might want. “I shall insist upon a place with a spacious bedroom.”

Julian gave her a knowing look. Did she think him so foolish? She cast out lures to more than one gentleman of the ton. Julian did not care for the notion of being one among many, particularly if he was expected to assist in financing the dwelling.

“I would be pleased to oblige, although I suggest your man of business would have a better knowledge of what might suit you than I would.”

“But Julian”—she pouted adorably—”I value your excellent taste.”

What a baggage, he thought ruefully. She had not ceased to hope that he would suggest she become his wife and move into the grand St. Aubyn town house. Then he recalled her many talents and offered his arm. Between appeasing her to keep Lady Chloe safe from recriminations and maintaining his bachelorhood, he would have his hands full.

* * * *

Chloe sank down onto a padded bench along the edge of the ballroom. Her heart slowly calmed to a normal pace and she unclasped her fingers from the death grip they’d held on her fan. Foolish girl! She might have suspected that St. Aubyn would have had an assignation with her beautiful aunt.

Head bowed, Chloe considered the delightful interlude before her aunt had appeared. He had been so very kind and concerned. At least, he had appeared so. It was most likely a performance, for who would expect a scoundrel of his position to concern himself with her dilemma? But, she decided, perhaps she might assert herself a trifle.

“Ah, here you are,” the Dowager Baroness Dancy cried. “Lord Twisdale has been searching for you, my girl. He is promised a second dance with you.”

“I apologize. I had not looked at my card, Grandmama.” Chloe rose from the bench, resigned to her fate. As her legal guardian in her parents’ absence, her grandmother had the right to control her marriage. Grandmama could well command Chloe to marry a man regardless how she felt about him. That she might have had help in avoiding marriage to the odious Twisdale had been nothing more than an illusion. Mr. St. Aubyn would rightfully be occupied with his own troubles. It was too much to hope a gentleman of the ton would concern himself with a mere green girl.

“I meant what I told you about Lord Twisdale. He will call for you at four of the clock tomorrow afternoon to go for a drive in the park. In the meantime you are to think about your future. It will be a trifle different from what you envisioned, but I fancy you will adjust.”

Chloe murmured a word of protest, then pressed her lips into silence.

“You will marry better than I did. I had to content myself with a baron,” Grandmama Dancy said. “Although never forget he came of impeccable lineage. I managed to capture a marquis for your mama. Cannot hope the same for such a dab of a girl as you, even if one were available. But Lord Twisdale is a viscount, so you will be decently elevated in this world.”

“I would wait to marry until Mama and Lord Crompton return to London,” Chloe daringly ventured to say with a rare, mutinous compression of her lips for a moment.

“Your mama has complete faith in my ability to align you with the best family available this Season. Twisdale is from fine stock, has an acceptable fortune, an excellent country house, and a town house with a good address. My man of business has investigated him for me and I am satisfied with the report.”

Chloe longed to ask if the lawyer had also reported on the questionable death of Lord Twisdale’s first wife, but knew she would be punished for being impertinent if she dared to say anything to that effect, so she kept silent.

Swept along at her imperious grandmother’s side, Chloe curtsied to Lord Twisdale, joining in the country dance with little enthusiasm.

“It is good to see a young woman who can keep a civil tongue in her head,” Lord Twisdale said to her grandmother when he returned Chloe at the conclusion of the dance. “You have done excellently well at schooling your granddaughter, madam.”

“She is an obedient girl, I’ll say that for her. My daughter-in-law put a few foolish notions in her head that I quickly put to rout, you may be sure. ‘Tis a good thing that Isobel took off on a honeymoon, or heaven knows what she might have done regarding Chloe’s future.”

Chloe wanted to cry out that her dearest mama would not have compelled her into a marriage with someone like the odious Lord Twisdale just to punish Chloe for refusing another man. But the short stay with Grandmama Dancy had forced Chloe to realize that her grandmama firmly believed in harsh punishment for anything she deemed impertinent. She was strict, stern, and never showed a speck of affection or compassion. Chloe felt as trapped as any fox at bay.

At this point Theo Purcell, the son of their hostess, properly presented himself to claim the next dance. Chloe gratefully left the stultifying presence of her grandmama and Lord Twisdale for the lighthearted romp of a Scottish reel.

“Dashed pleased to see you here this evening,” Theo offered while they danced madly down the center of the line.

Before taking her place opposite him, Chloe flashed a grin at him and nodded. “I couldn’t have missed it for anything.”

Theo frowned at her choice of words, causing Chloe to berate herself for perhaps revealing too much. She’d have been forced here even if she’d had a fever.

They concluded the dance and Theo suggested they pause for a glass of lemonade.

Chloe gave him a grateful look. Even if he was reputed to be somewhat of a sad rattle of a fellow, he was deemed amusing, if a bit outrageous. She sipped the pleasantly tart beverage he offered her with pleasure.

“I sense you are less than happy. Lady Chloe,” Theo ventured.

“Oh, nothing that will not mend, as they say. Do you long for the end of the Season so you may retreat to the peace of the country? Or are you one of the gentlemen who remain in the city to enjoy the delights found here?”

Surprised at the passable conversation from a girl he had deemed dull and dreary, Theo said, “St. Aubyn and I plan to remain for a time before repairing to his country estate. He has a few loose ends to conclude.” Julian had informed Theo that the friendship with Mrs. Hadlow had run its course and he intended to end it as soon as possible.

“You are good friends with the gentleman?” Lady Chloe held her glass of lemonade before her as though it might bite.

“I am,” Theo replied with agreeable modesty. “I daresay you are not acquainted with him, for I doubt your dra—, that is, your grandmama would permit such an introduction. Although, in St. Aubyn’s defense may I say he is the best of fellows.” Theo was surprised that Lady Chloe would dare show an interest in a man who was, to put it kindly, a bit of a scoundrel—one beyond naive girls.

“I suspect that grandmamas have a somewhat different point of view from a gentleman’s friends,” Lady Chloe said, fortunately overlooking his near blunder of referring to Lady Dancy as a dragon, which she definitely was.

“True. St. Aubyn is a prince of a fellow, but the ladies will persist in pursuing the chap. Lucky dog,” Theo added under his breath.

Chloe studied her companion from beneath partially lowered lashes. Theo Purcell was a spindly fellow with blond hair that fell into what she supposed was romantic locks. His brown eyes had held a kindly look in them, however. Why was he considered so audacious?

“I understand you are quite musically gifted, Mr. Purcell. You perform on the pianoforte?”

“For my sins, I do. My father wants me to hunt and I want to be musical. Fathers never seem to be satisfied with their sons. Look at St. Aubyn. His father demands he wed and set up his nursery, else face a drastic cut in funds. Seems to think that since the viscountcy traces back to the Conquest that Julian ought to do him proud. Demands a bride of wealth and background—as though they were thick on the ground. Mind you, both of us wish to please our fathers. It isn’t always easy.”

Then Theo, who admitted a reputation for being a bit of a rattle, even if he was musically talented, looked most surprised at the serious conversation he was holding with young Lady Chloe. “Are you a mesmerist. Lady Chloe? I vow I do not usually spout so to a charming young lady.”

“You underrate yourself, for you are an entertaining gentleman,” Chloe protested. She had learned what it was that blue-deviled poor St. Aubyn, thanks to the chattiness of his good friend. “I hope I shall have the pleasure of hearing you play one day. I should like that. I have no such talent and I envy those who do.”

“Miss Walsham said you are clever with drawing. Do you take a pad and pencil with you when you go about?”

Chloe blushed at the reminder of the sketch in her generous reticule. She unconsciously clutched the cords of her reticule more tightly in her hands.

“I suspect you do,” Theo said gently. “Will you permit me to see them?”

“I doubt you would find them of interest.”

Theo smiled, figuring he would see an amateurish drawing and steeled himself not to shudder. He boldly plucked the reticule from her hands—ignoring her gasp of protest—then opened it to peer inside. He removed the little pad, returning the reticule to Lady Chloe. As usual, he was breaking every rule in the book, but his curiosity had blossomed out of control. Then he opened the book to see the first of the little caricatures.

“Good heavens, it is Twisdale to the life. That is, it expresses him to a tee,” Theo hastily added. The nastiness he had suspected was concealed behind Twisdale’s bland veneer was bared to the viewer in all its ugliness when Lady Chloe had depicted Twisdale as a pompous serpent with sideburns. With an accurate portrayal of Twisdale’s head above a starched cravat and gaping coat, the scaly body of a serpent coiled below.

“You ought not be looking at that. I never intended anyone to see it. I merely do them for my own amusement.” She stretched out her hand, giving Theo an accusing look that ought to have put him to shame.

Theo acted as though he did not hear her softly spoken words. There was no way he could return the pad, although he knew he should, until he had seen the lot.

“By Jove, there is St. Aubyn. Incredible! You have caught that hint of pain he tries to hide, even though you show him as a lion. Handsome devil,” Theo concluded without a trace of envy in his voice. A lifelike Julian’s face topped a noble lion, poised to do battle. “Devilishly good sketches, Lady Chloe. Pity you cannot show them around, for they cut to the heart of a person, though I quite understand that you prefer to keep them to yourself. Oh, this one of Mrs. Hadlow is choice. She
is
like a mongoose, just as you have depicted her.” The sly look in her aunt’s eyes accurately caught her nature, as did the predatory paws. If he thought it a pity that the mongooseish Mrs. Hadlow couldn’t consume the snakelike Lord Twisdale, he said nothing of the sort.

Chloe snatched the pad from Theo’s hold and stuffed it into her reticule. “I implore you to say nothing of these sketches to anyone. I do them for my diversion, certainly nothing more. You are truly as naughty a gentleman as I have been told,” she scolded, albeit with a strained smile. She curtsied, then whirled away, retreating to her grandmother’s side.