Nina Coombs Pykare (15 page)

“My good name means nothing to me without you.” Penelope’s eyes grew wild and her voice began to tremble. “You are my family. If you will not marry me, I’ll end all this misery. The bridge should—”

“Penelope!”

“Licia, I cannot help it. I have waited all my life to love a man. And now, am I to lose him because he paints pictures while members of the ton run around like naughty boys tipping over the poor Charlies in their boxes or gaming away all their substance? That’s not fair.”

Licia turned to Harry. “Really, Mr. Bates, Penelope has a point. Perhaps, if the marriage were accomplished
,
Aunt Hortense would come round.” She was not at all certain of this, but given Penelope’s distraught looks, it seemed the best thing to say.

Harry shook his head. “Lady Chester is a proud woman. She will never welcome a painter into her family.”

Licia was constrained to agree with him, but she did so only to herself. Penelope deserved a chance at happiness. “We cannot know that for certain,” Licia continued. “Gretna Green seems your only choice.”

Harry frowned. “It is so underhanded. Why can’t I just march up and proclaim my love?”

Penelope shook her head. “Because Mama would take steps. No. We cannot tell her till the deed is done.”

And then, thought Licia, the fur would fly. But still, she considered an elopement their best hope, if they could get away without being stopped.

“Oh, no!” Licia clapped a hand over her mouth.

“What is it?” Penelope asked.

“When Aunt Hortense finds out, she will send someone after you. She will send Ravenworth!”

Penelope nodded. “I have thought of that. You must delay him.”

“I?” Her heart went cold with fear. He could not approve of this. “How?”

“We will figure something out.” Penelope turned to Harry. “Let’s plan for early next week.”

Harry looked unhappy but he nodded. Like her, he was probably worried about Penelope’s state of mind.

The drive home was enlivened by Dezzie’s chatter, but when the viscount left them at the house on Grosvenor Square, the three young women climbed the stairs in silence.

Dezzie followed the others into Penelope’s room. “Is it settled, then? Have you set the date?”

Penelope sighed. “Next week. I don’t know which day.”

Dezzie smiled. “It is all so exciting. And guess what?”

“What?” asked Licia, more from habit than from interest.

“I know who bought
Frosty Morning.”

Licia whirled. “Dezzie, you didn’t tell—”

“Of course not. Besides, the viscount doesn’t know that
I
have a secret.”

“And he had better not learn,” Licia said sternly.

“Oh, I shan’t tell. But don’t you want to know?”

“Know what?”

Dezzie stamped her foot impatiently. “Who bought the painting, of course.”

“Mr. Bates said the buyer didn’t wish to be known.”

“Well, Lockwood knows him. And so do we.”

Penelope raised an eyebrow. “We do?”

“Yes.” Dezzie’s smile was triumphant. “The painting was purchased by Ravenworth.”

Licia’s breath left her body. “Whatever for?”

“Lockwood says he bought it for a woman.”

Blindly Licia groped for a chair and sank into it.

“He couldn’t,” Penelope said firmly. “It would ruin our arrangement.”

Dezzie shook her head. “Oh, no. The gallery is keeping it for him. He’s not going to give it to her until he’s free.” Dezzie gave a little skip. “Well, I guess I’ll go talk to Mama about my wedding gown. I want it to be just right.” And out she went, entirely oblivious to what she had done.

Licia, staring into space, wished only for a hole to hide in.

“That Dezzie,” Penelope said. “Sometimes I could choke her.”

“She means no harm,” Licia said dully. “She thinks it’s all a farce. As it really is.”

Penelope glowered. “I should like to choke David, too. Can’t the man see what he’s doing to you?”

Licia turned tearful eyes to her cousin. “Do not blame him, Penelope. It is all my fault. I knew when we asked him that—that I had a
tendre
for him. He is not to blame that my attachment grew. He meant only to help us.”

“Perhaps.” Penelope looked thoughtful. “I wonder who this woman is.”

“Please, Penelope,” Licia begged. “Do not embarrass me further by trying to find out. Ravenworth has done a great deal for us. He is entitled to his privacy.”

The more Licia thought about the coming elopement, the more it preyed upon her mind. It simply was not right for Penelope to have to run off like that. If only there were something she could do about it.

Ravenworth would know what to do. She could not divulge Penelope’s secret to him. But maybe she could make it a hypothetical case. They had had many hypothetical discussions about land reform and other matters. But first she had to have a chance. She had to delay the elopement.

So at bedtime that night she went to Penelope’s room.

Penelope looked almost as pale as her nightdress. “Come in,” she said. “And close the door. I am trying to decide what to take with me.”

“Oh, please, don’t do it.”

Penelope shook her head. “I must.”

The tears came, and Licia did not try to stop them. “I— just—cannot—do this alone,” she said, sobbing. “If you run off, your mama will be a veritable dragon. Ravenworth will fly up in the boughs. Mama will go wild if he leaves me now. And Dezzie and Lockwood will lose their chance. I simply cannot carry it all alone.”

Penelope looked troubled. “Oh, Cousin, I am sorry. I’ve been so embroiled in my own problems that I have quite forgotten yours.”

“Could you just wait a little while, till Dezzie’s safely married? Then it won’t matter if Ravenworth is upset with me.”

Penelope sank down on the bed. “How long do you think it will be?”

“Perhaps August, perhaps sooner.” Her heart sank at the thought of losing Ravenworth, but she forced herself to go on. “You know Harry loves you.”

Penelope nodded. “Yes, and he is not at all eager to take this way out.” She sighed. “Truthfully, neither am I. But I can see no other.”

Licia nodded. “At least he loves you. But tell me, Penelope, will you do this for me? Will you wait?”

“Till August or Dezzie’s wedding, whichever comes first,” her cousin agreed. “But no longer.”

“Oh, Penelope, thank you. I truly could not have managed alone.”

Chapter Thirteen

The summer days passed quickly. June became July, and still Licia could think of no way to help Penelope. The city was agog with victory celebrations. After his defeat of Napoleon the great Wellington had returned to universal acclaim. And the Prince Regent, in gratitude, had made him a duke.

One Wednesday night in late July the hero appeared at Almack’s. Mama was ecstatic. “Just look!” she cried, grabbing Ravenworth’s arm. “There is the great man. Oh, your grace, do make me known to him.”

Licia shuddered. “Mama, you must not ask such—”

Ravenworth shushed her. “It’s all right, my dear. It’s the least I can do for your mama.”

His eyes twinkled, but Licia did not feel like smiling. Why did he persist in treating Mama like an ordinary person? Didn’t he understand how ridiculously she could behave? How she might embarrass him? Licia was used to it, more or less. But Ravenworth was a peer.

Naturally there was a crush around the great man, but way was made for Ravenworth. Soon they were face-to-face with the hero.

“Ravenworth!” Wellington’s delight showed on his face. It was a strong face, dominated by a hawkish nose and eyes that spoke of power.

“Glad to see you safely home,” said Ravenworth.

“And your wound?” Wellington inquired.

“Completely healed. It’s kind of you to ask. You did a tremendous job putting it over on Boney like that.”

Wellington nodded. “Sometimes I wasn’t at all sure we’d do it. But enough of that. Who are these lovely ladies?”

Mama tittered like a schoolgirl, and Licia flushed.

“This,” said Ravenworth, drawing her forward, “is Miss Licia Dudley.”

“Ah-ha!” Wellington chuckled. “At last I have seen the miracle worker. The woman who snared the unsnarable Ravenworth.”

Ravenworth laughed. “You needn’t find it so delightful. As I recall, you have been leg-shackled for some time.”

“True, true.”

“And this is Licia’s mama.”

“Of course. Madame, would you care to dance with me?”

“Oh, your grace! Yes! I should love to. Oh, my!”

With a smile to his friend, Wellington led Mama away. “So said,” Ravenworth, “we are alone at last.”

“And Mama is with Wellington.”

He frowned. “You worry too much.”

“And if she tells him about the bed?”

To her surprise the duke merely shrugged. “He’s heard far worse things than that. He’d probably enjoy it.”

Licia let the subject go. If he didn’t care, she would not worry about it. For days now she’d been looking for a way to ask him about Penelope’s problem without him guessing it was
her
problem. Now she believed she had found a chance. “Your grace?”

“Yes, my dear?”

“I am curious about something, and I thought perhaps you could help me.”

“I shall if I can.”

“I have heard a story. I don’t know the people involved, of course. But I wondered what you should do in such a case.”

He patted her hand and smiled. “Tell me the case, my dear. And I shall tell you what I would do.”

“Well
.
.
.
” Now that she had begun, she wasn’t so sure this was a good idea.

“Go on.”

“Well, Dezzie was telling me about a young woman who loves an artist—a sculptor, I believe. But her mother won’t give them permission to marry. The young woman is—is of the ton, you see.”

He nodded. “Then of course her mother won’t give permission. A woman doesn’t marry beneath her.”

Hardly daring to look at him, she examined her gloves. “Why not?”

“It just isn’t done.”

The same old argument. “You said that. But it hardly seems fair.”

He frowned. “The world is not noted for its fairness.”

She pulled at her glove. “This man is a good person—a fine, honorable person.”

“Then he should tell this young woman good-bye.”

Licia raised her head. “But why? He loves her and she loves him. They could be happy together.”

“Be sensible, Licia. An artist, you say. He’s young and unknown, isn’t he?”

She was forced to agree. “Yes. That is, I suppose, so.”

His frown deepened. “Then he will not have the proper means to support her.”

Men! They used the poorest excuses.

“But what if she doesn’t care for the frivolities of fashionable life? What if she wants only to live a quiet life with the man she loves?”

His frown had become a scowl. “You seem to have an intense interest in this young woman. Is she someone you know?”

“Oh, no.” She hastened to reassure him. “I just don’t think it’s fair. If two people love each other, they should be together.” For some unaccountable reason she wanted to cry. “But I forget, your grace, that you don’t hold with love. So you would find all this foolishness.”

His scowl grew even fiercer. “That was unworthy of you, Miss Dudley. I tell you the same things any peer would tell you.”

“Quite so!” She was all out of sorts with him. Still, she wanted to help Penelope. She managed a conciliating smile. “I don’t suppose you can easily imagine yourself in such a sad case—in love and all. But exert yourself a little. Try to imagine what you should do.”

He ran a hand across his brow. “As you suggest, I find it most difficult to imagine myself in such a case. But if I were .
.
. is this woman very young?”

“No. She’s .
.
. I believe Dezzie said she’s older. More nearly our age.”

“I see.” He examined his cuffs. “Then I should do the manly thing. Approach her mama and state my case.”

“And if her mama refused you?”

“I .
.
.
I suppose I might ask some person of consequence to intercede, to vouch for me—providing I could find one.”

Her breath caught in her throat. But no, he would not do that. He was clearly against such unions. She swallowed over the lump in her throat. “And if that was unsuccessful?”

“I .
.
. Miss Dudley, your questions are most difficult to answer.”

“You told Mama you would run off with me.”

“Yes, but that was a special case.”

“I see. And now you are saying that it is not the thing to do.”

“Well, I
.
..
”

She was entirely distraught. “I knew it,” she began. “You have no feeling, no—”

He took her gloved hands in his. “Miss Dudley, Licia. You are unfair to me. These unknown people, are they more important to you than my friendship?”

“No, of course not.” Nothing was more important to her than he. When he looked at her like that, when he held her hands . . . She pulled her fingers loose. “But I am concerned about fairness. The principle of the thing, you see.”

He raised an eyebrow. “The principle, is it? Well, my dear, I’m afraid the world isn’t much for principle, either. I don’t think this young woman has much chance for happiness. A man so far beneath—”

“Licia!” She turned to find an accusing Dezzie, her mouth rounding into an outraged
0.

“I told Ravenworth about the young woman who loves a sculptor.” Urgently Licia pressed Dezzie’s arm. Please, let her understand. “I was taken with what you told me the other day. So I asked his grace what he would do in a like case.”

Comprehension dawned in Dezzie’s eyes, and slowly Licia let out her breath.

“Yes, it is a dreadfully sad case. I am so in love myself that I sympathize with all such people.” Dezzie’s eyes sparkled. “And did the duke have a solution?”

Ravenworth shook his head. “Not really. Such cases are difficult.”

Dezzie frowned. “Well, I should think a man of your parts could do
something.
Go to Parliament and make a law.” And Dezzie stalked off.