Emily Hendrickson (5 page)

“That is no lie,” he said with a chuckle of his own, then gallantly added, “although I misdoubt you are as green as you claim.”

“La, sir, you flatter shamelessly,” Chloe said with amusement. “Although I see you do not disclaim the designation of dashing!” She gave him a distinctly arch look and actually fluttered her dark lashes at him. The sparkle in her eyes caught his interest, for it hinted at other, more interesting talents.

“You learn your lessons too quickly, I think. Now, pay attention,” he said in a more serious vein. “We will wait to see how affairs go this afternoon and then proceed accordingly. Is that agreed?”

With a good deal of trepidation Chloe sobered, then nodded. “Agreed.”

Chloe, heart fluttering madly with dismay, watched him dash off across the park leaving her to sedately trot along in his wake.

Was she utterly mad to trust the man, a near stranger? She knew so little about him, other than brief comments. But…she admitted, she had never heard anything truly evil, such as the nasty rumor regarding Lord Twisdale and his late wife. No, remarks about the roguish Mr. St. Aubyn were inclined to be wistful—when made by ladies—and admiring—from gentlemen.

Then Chloe burst into wry giggles of the infectious sort that even made her dour groom soften his expression. Fancy her becoming entangled in such a predicament. This was more like something her cousins might do. At this thought she sat a trifle straighter in her saddle, tilted her chin up a bit, and contemplated the coming afternoon and what it might bring.

Upon her arrival at her grandmother’s house, she went to her room to change from her detested riding habit—chosen by her grandmother for its modesty—and turned to her drawing pad and pencil.

She intended to make a sketch of Mr. Purcell today. With an excellent memory at her command, it was no time at all before she had the face of Theo Purcell atop the drawing of an inquisitive and very naughty-looking magpie.

Once satisfied she had captured the look of unholy glee that crossed his face when he had seen the drawing of Lord Twisdale, she ranged all the drawings along her little desk. It was a bit like looking at the cast of characters for a play. She had seen such a sketch once, depicting all the roles for a comedy on the stage. Only, this was her life and it did not the least seem like a comedy to her.

* * * *

That afternoon Chloe was not surprised when Lord Twisdale was announced shortly before four of the clock. She had expected him to be early.

The gentleman bowed faintly when she entered the room, giving Chloe the impression that Lord Twisdale felt he was doing her a vast honor. And so he was, she supposed. What a pity she did not appreciate it in the least.

“I feel sure that you are aware why I am here,” he began with a pompous air. “Your grandmother would scarcely permit me to be private with you otherwise.”

Since Chloe had most carefully left the door wide open and even brought her maid along to remain just inside the entrance to the sitting room, she merely bowed her head.

“Indeed,” she replied with a docile air. She crossed the room to seat herself on a straight-backed chair that was as uncomfortable as it looked. However, it had the advantage of being some distance from Lord Twisdale and that annoying scent he wore. Folding her hands neatly in her lap she waited for what was to come with a meek pose.

“Lady Chloe, I have the distinct satisfaction of soliciting your hand in marriage,” he announced abruptly with total disregard for any romantic notions Chloe might harbor. “The dowager agrees with me that our marriage would suit us both admirably.”

Chloe knew the wildest desire to ask if Lord Twisdale intended to wed her grandmother, for it certainly sounded that way. She doubted if he would appreciate her lamentable sense of humor and remained properly silent for a moment before attempting a reply while searching for a means of playing for time.

“This is very precipitous, is it not? I scarcely know you, sir.” Chloe wondered if she ought to attempt to stall or if she should just reject the man immediately and incur the wrath of everyone on her head at once.

“You know all you need to know, my girl,” he said in a sharp tone and with a look of annoyance. “I sought approval from your grandmother and she has granted it after a proper investigation.”

“I am dreadfully young, sir, and perhaps a trifle absurd. Pray allow me to consider your offer for a time, for I would not wish to err in my judgment. Marriage is such a permanent arrangement.” Unless, she added to herself, one is nudged into the grave. Chloe studiously kept her gaze on her lap where her hands fidgeted with a scrap of linen. It was the only sign that her nerves were tried.

“I am confident you will see the wisdom of an alliance with me,” he said with a hint of impatience.

Curious at his change in tone, Chloe glanced up to catch a smug expression settle on his face. He must feel greatly confident, she thought. What a pity. He appeared even more the serpent to her with that unctuous look in his eyes. She would be glad once she could deny him and be free of this threat to her peace.

Repressing her aversion with care, Chloe rose from her chair and crossed to the door. Her maid stepped forth with a pelisse and bonnet in her hand,

“Excuse me and I shall prepare for our drive. That is, we are still to take a turn in the park, are we not?” She paused by the door, taking her bonnet in hand before facing him.

His smile was rather thin when he replied, “But of course, Lady Chloe.”

Chloe was very prudent in her actions. She did not wish to arouse any suspicions. Rather, she attempted to act like the innocent she was, but one who truly could not make up her mind and appeared excessively shy. If she aroused his concerns he might say something to her grandmama, who knew that while Chloe might appear shy, she knew her mind well enough, more’s the pity. She might sneeze. Since he appeared to suspect weakness of any kind in a future bride, it could possibly help. Her sneeze was a glorious one, rattling the very windows.

Her ploy seemed to be most effective. The aggravated, yet resigned look from Lord Twisdale proved her strategy was working. Now if they could just encounter Mr. St. Aubyn in the park. Chloe depended upon her gallant rescuer to come to her aid. Precisely what he intended to do she was not certain. But anyone as dashing and debonair as Mr. St. Aubyn must have dozens of ideas in his brain.

* * * *

Julian had endured a devil of a day in but a few hours. Try as he could, there was no way he might fob off Elinor Hadlow from the drive she demanded. She insisted upon traversing the park at the height of the afternoon promenade by the stylish of the ton. He had fully intended to ride today, just in case Lady Chloe signaled him a message. How the devil was he to cope with Elinor languishing at his side?

He guided his team through the gathering throng that led into the park. It proved tedious and awkward going, particularly when one inexperienced driver of a high perch phaeton became entangled with a tandem rig.

Elinor remained silent at first, somehow sensing that he was less than thrilled to be summoned to her side. She wondered if her twit of a niece could possibly have had any bearing on his attitude, then decided that had to be the silliest piece of nonsense ever to enter her head.

She bowed to a passing dowager with the sort of regal air she intended to cultivate once she became Mrs. St. Aubyn and wife of the heir to the substantial St. Aubyn fortune, the superb estates, not to mention the famous St. Aubyn jewels. She had glimpsed a few of them when Julian’s mother was still alive and they were magnificent. Elinor fully intended to be the next to adorn herself with those diamonds, rubies, emeralds, and other gems she had heard of but not seen.

Her eyes narrowed at first when her niece came into view. The chit seemed even more dowdy than usual. How fortunate, Elinor thought, the girl looked as though she couldn’t say boo to a goose.

Then Elinor noticed Lord Twisdale and her smile widened. Lovely. Not only would her niece soon be out of the way—Lord Twisdale had kept his first wife safely in the country and far from Society’s eyes—but if the rumor was true, she wouldn’t be around much longer, either. Pity all that wonderful money was legally tied to Chloe. Elinor would so love to get her hands on it.

Julian flinched when he saw the look in Lady Chloe’s eyes. Her hand raised to the brim of her bonnet to adjust the feather just so and he shook his head. It had been as he had predicted. Twisdale had not waited long—not that
that
was unusual these days. When a peer of the realm needed a wife following the death of a first, Society proved most forgiving of his ignoring the time of mourning. Even though he did not actually marry Chloe, he could attach himself to her in such a manner that she would be as good as wed to him.

Julian signaled to her that he understood her dilemma with a lift of his hat, an unexceptional gesture.

“You met my little niece the other evening while at the Purcell ball, I believe,” Elinor said when it appeared Julian had nothing to say.

“Indeed. Theo said she is a talented little artist. I have not seen her work. Have you?” Julian skillfully wove his carriage through the press of carriages in the direction of the serpentine.

“I had no idea that she possessed any talent whatsoever. I fear I have been far too occupied with my search for a new residence to look in on my little niece. Usually, girls making their come-outs are so tediously naive.” Elinor gave a sigh, as though to remind Julian that she was wondrously beyond that stage.

“Odd, she struck me as showing distinct promise. Theo appeared much taken with her.” Julian decided it best to deflect attention from Lady Chloe. He well knew it would not do for him to evince too much interest in the girl.

“Theo Purcell? That rattlepate has an interest in my niece? I doubt it will do him any good. The dowager will most likely select a much different gentleman for little Chloe. Mr. Purcell has little to recommend him other than his family and an ill-advised interest in music.”

Julian made no reply, for he knew precisely the financial standing of his good friend and it was far better than Elinor suspected.

He tired of her waspish comments on those in passing carriages long before they left the park. It was with distinct relief that he drew up his team of matched chestnuts before the Hadlow establishment.

“Do say you will come in for a moment. Your groom can easily look after your horses. I would show you the list of properties that my man of business presented to me. You know I value your advice.” She gave him a melting smile and Julian decided that perhaps he had best have a look at that list. There was a definite hint of triumph in her eyes that he could not trust.

Leaving his cattle in the capable hands of his groom, Julian escorted Elinor into the house with a wary step. The curvaceous Mrs. Hadlow was not to be trusted. Julian was thankful that Hadlow House stood in a quiet corner of London and that Elinor had a companion of unimpeachable propriety.

Elinor led him along the hall to her study, once her late husband’s. In a dull and dreary room heavy with dark oak and deep blue draperies the splash of white paper on the desk caught his eye immediately.

“Which one do you think I shall choose to buy?” She whisked the paper from the desk to place in Julian’s hand. In the background, Miss Wingrove, the elderly woman who offered a note of decorum to the dashing widow, rustled to a halt by the door.

He barely refrained from an exclamation. The house at the top of the list was one across the square from his own. He had not known it was for sale, not that it mattered.

“How convenient for you,” he murmured, which he supposed was near enough to the truth of the matter.

“Yes, is it not,” she murmured back at him in a seductive voice. “You will be able to visit whenever you please.” She sidled forward to lean suggestively against him.

“I am able to do that with anyone,” he reminded her. He barely refrained from taking a step back from her as he wished he might. What a pity she was such a tantalizing piece of baggage.

A flash of annoyance was quickly wiped away from her lovely face. “I expect you to do the right thing, Julian. You do know what I mean? Your father would not like to hear of your activities these past months.” Her eyes narrowed with intent; their meaning was not lost on Julian.

“Truly, dear lady? He rarely concerns himself with my doings, but if you say so…” Julian cleverly extricated himself from her clasp, feigning a reluctance while he said, “I am devastated that a prior appointment takes me from your side, dear Elinor. Until later?”

She did not appear happy to see him go, but there was nothing she might do to hold him here…at least for now. She must cling to his promise—for it was that, surely—to come to her later on. Elinor needed to bind St. Aubyn to her in a more permanent way and time was not standing still.

* * * *

Chloe entered her grandmother’s house at the chime of the clock. Five of the afternoon. Had it been but an hour that she was gone? She must try to meet with Mr. St. Aubyn. As to how, she was not sure, but she would find a way. Knowing she must report to her grandmama, she went to the drawing room and paused at the doorway.

“My dear girl,” her grandmother began from her place on the sofa, “am I to wish you happy?”

“Not as yet, Grandmama. Lord Twisdale did indeed ask for my hand, but I begged for more time.”

“More time?” her thunderstruck relative cried. “And what does a chit like you need with more time, pray tell?”

“Marriage is such a permanent affair,” Chloe said in defense of her behavior. “I would know that this alliance is right for me.”

“Foolish child. Trust one who knows what is best for you to make that decision for you.”

“There are times when I wish I were at home in Wiltshire again,” Chloe blurted out in dismay.

“It is no longer your home,” the dowager reminded her. “Your brother John—if he still lives—claims title to it. You shall be buried in the country if you do not marry soon. Your mother and stepfather may elect to spend their time there.”