Nina Coombs Pykare (17 page)

“He,” cried Dezzie, pointing a trembling finger at the viscount, “is worse than a spy! He betrayed me!”

Lockwood paled and pulled at his cravat. “Dezzie, my love, I didn’t.” He turned to his uncle. “Explain it to her, Ravenworth.”

The duke shrugged. “I did that last night. You must learn to manage your own affairs.”

“But .
.
.
”

Ravenworth ignored him and offered Licia his arm. “Shall we walk a little?”

She was not eager to leave Dezzie while she was in such a state. But something in the duke’s eyes made her link her arm obediently through his and move away. Still, she tried to look back over her shoulder at the young people.

“Let them be,” said Ravenworth. “They must deal with this themselves.”

She did not understand this attitude on his part. “But surely you could put it straight.”

He smiled. “I am flattered at your regard for my diplomatic capacities,” he said. “But in this case they won’t serve. First off, it’s unwise for the two of them to depend on me to settle their squabbles. After all, I shall not always be available. And second, it is not reasons that Dezzie really wants. I gave her those last night. It is reassurance of Lockwood’s feelings for her that she actually seeks. And she can have that only from him.”

Licia stared at him in fascination. “How did you come to know so much about love when you do not hold with it?”

Ravenworth frowned. “It is not love with which I quarrel but the institution of marriage.”

Licia felt her heart fluttering. Perhaps all along he had loved that other woman; perhaps she was someone unsuitable for marriage. Did that mean Licia could enlist his aid for Penelope?

“But the institution of marriage has recently undergone a marked change in my perceptions,” he continued.

Her heart jumped so suddenly that her step faltered and she had to clutch at his arm. That woman, the one he’d bought the painting for. He meant to marry her. “It has?” she managed to get out.

“Yes. I have come to see that a marriage based on love may be feasible, after all.”

“I see.” She got the words out. She even managed to add “It is very kind of you to delay your plans till Dezzie is wed. Your lady must be—” suddenly her voice failed her.

“She is a fine lady. And she will wait for me,” he said, his voice confident. But his eyes held the strangest uneasy look. She could not believe that any sensible woman would refuse him. Yet he appeared to fear just that.

She felt quite confused. Ravenworth was obviously a man who could sway Aunt Hortense’s mind on the matter of Harry Bates. But if they asked him and he refused . . . she would have to leave the matter up to Penelope.

* * * *

It was quite some time before she and Penelope had any time alone. After many protestations of love on his part and frosty looks on hers, Lockwood and Dezzie had made up. And the five of them had all gone for a carriage ride, after all.

Then, upon their return, Dezzie went off to discuss wedding plans with Mama, and Licia and Penelope were at last alone.

Licia followed her cousin into her room. “Penelope, we must talk.”

Penelope closed the door. “Of course
,
Cousin. What is it?”

“I think we should ask Ravenworth to help you.”

“No!” Penelope paled. “He would think it all foolishness. You know how he is about love. And he would tell Mama.”

“Perhaps not. He said some things this afternoon—”

“You didn’t tell him?”

“Of course not.”

In her agitation Penelope crossed and recrossed the room. “Then what happened?”

“We discussed your case, a hypothetical case. And he said the man should get some powerful person to intercede on his behalf.”

Penelope frowned. “David said that?”

“Yes.”

“And he said the man should go to the mama and declare himself.”

Penelope twisted her hands. “Harry wants to do that. But I told him no. Mama might send me away. I tell you, Licia, if I am denied Harry, my life will have no meaning.”

“Penelope!” Licia remembered Penelope’s words about the bridge. She might not have meant them, but still . . .

“I do not mean to alarm you,” her cousin said. “But that is how it is. Without Harry my life is quite empty.” She smiled. “But do not fear. It will not come to that. Harry will take me to Gretna Green.”

“But Raven—”

“No.” Penelope eyed her cousin sternly. “I know David. He will not help me in this, Licia, you must give me your solemn promise. Not a word to David. Not under any circumstances.”

“But—”

“Give me your word.”

There was no hope for it. She could see Penelope would not be swayed. “All right, I promise. I will not tell Ravenworth anything. No matter what.”

“Good,” said Penelope, obviously relieved. “I am much afraid that if he knew, David would ruin everything.”

* * * *

It was not Ravenworth who threatened to bring everyone’s plans to ruination, however, but Mama herself. Though in this case she did it quite unwittingly.

They were sitting in the drawing room one warm afternoon a week or so later, stitching away at their needlepoint, when Dezzie hurried to the window. “I thought I heard a carriage,” she exclaimed. “It’s them.”

Licia’s heart contracted. It was ridiculous, of course, to feel so pleased just at the prospect of seeing him, but she could not help it.

“Oh, my,” murmured Dezzie.

Alerted by her tone, Licia looked up. “What is it?”

“Something’s wrong. Lockwood looks terrible. And the duke—”

“Dezzie, really.” Aunt Hortense gave her a discouraging look. “It’s not the thing for ladies to go peeking between the curtains at their visitors. Do come and sit down. You will learn soon enough why they are here.”

Dezzie crossed the room and obediently resumed her seat. She even picked up her needlepoint, but Licia saw that her hands were trembling. Something had certainly frightened her.

And then the butler announced the visitors. One look at Ravenworth’s black scowl was enough to inform her what had set Dezzie to trembling. And Lockwood looked so pale, she half expected him to collapse there on the floor.

The sight of the duke in such a mood made it difficult for Licia to speak. But Penelope was not similarly affected. “David, for pity’s sake, do not scowl so! It makes you look uncommonly ferocious.”

To Licia’s surprise his grace ignored them both. He crossed the room to stand before Mama. “Mrs. Dudley,” he began in a voice that made Licia shiver.

Mama, pulling at a recalcitrant stitch, did not look up. “Now, your grace, I do wish you would learn to call me ‘Mama’
.
”

“Madame!”

The duke’s words thundered through the drawing room and brought a whimper from Dezzie. Mama merely looked up.

“Why,” the duke demanded, “do you wish to bring ruin and unhappiness upon your own children?”

Mama’s mouth rounded into an 0 of astonishment. “I, your grace? Why, what a thing to say! I want my girls to be happy.”

“Then why have you destroyed my nephew’s chance of winning your daughter?”

Dezzie’s eyes went to Lockwood. “Oh no! What did she do?”

“She sent a message to the
Times,”
the embarrassed young man related, pulling at his cravat as though it would strangle him.

Dezzie looked bewildered. “A message?”

Ravenworth swung to face her. “Yes. The announcement of your betrothal to Lockwood.” His eyes went briefly to Licia. “And that of Licia to me.”

Licia bit her lip in vexation. No wonder he was so irate. They had never meant to let it get this far. He must really be put out. And the woman he’d been uneasy about
.
.
. this must have upset her.

“I’m sure I don’t know what all the fuss is about,” Mama said complacently. “You’ve both been courting for weeks. So I just sent a piece to the paper.”

“Oh, Mama,” Dezzie wailed.

“It is customary,” said Ravenworth in chilling tones, “to consult the parties in question.”

Mama shrugged. “It didn’t seem necessary.”

“And so in your usual empty-headed fashion—”

“See here, your grace
,
” Aunt Hortense said, interrupting. “There’s no need to fly up in the boughs. True, Dorothea might have—”

“She has almost certainly ruined Dezzie’s chances with my nephew.”

Dezzie burst into tears and Lockwood hurried to comfort her.

Aunt Hortense raised an eyebrow. “Now, Ravenworth, you needn’t make it into a Cheltenham tragedy.”

“It has the makings of a real tragedy, I fear. Amanda wanted Lockwood to wed higher. Have you forgotten what a stickler she is for propriety? And now Mrs. Dudley has gone and put a piece in the paper before Amanda’s consent has been properly given.”

Aunt Hortense frowned. “Oh, dear. I’m afraid you’re right.”

“My sister was almost ready to give her consent”—the duke fixed a stern eye on Mama—”until you bungled things.”

To Licia’s absolute surprise Mama covered her face with her hands and burst into tears. “Oh, dear,” she said, sobbing. “I .
.
. am . . . sorry.”

Ravenworth stood like one stunned. And Licia was in no better case. She could not remember ever having heard Mama say she was sorry.

The duke sent Licia a pleading look. Evidently a sobbing woman was an unfamiliar sight to him. Rousing herself, she hurried to Mama’s side and put a comforting arm around her. “There, there
,
Mama.” She looked up at the duke. “Please, isn’t there something we can do?”

Ravenworth’s scowl had faded to bewilderment. “I—I shall see what I can do. Mama and I are calling on Amanda later this afternoon.” He paused. “Perhaps you should go with us.”

“Your grace!” How could he
dream
of taking Mama into such a situation?

“Yes,” he said, nodding. “You must go with us. You and Licia. And Lady Chester, if you will.”

“Of course I will,” agreed Aunt Hortense. “But really, do you think it wise to—”

“I do,” said the duke. He turned, glaring at Mama. “And you must not speak unless spoken to.”

Mama nodded.

“And you must not, under any circumstances, mention Dr. Graham’s celebrated bed.”

Mama sniffed. “Very well. But I can’t see why you take on so. It was quite a famous bed and . . . oh, all right. I shall not mention it.”

The duke made a small bow. “Very good. Now I suggest you get dressed for visiting. We’ll be back in an hour.”

The door had barely closed behind him before Mama turned to Licia. “He’s just like your papa,” she said. “You’re going to be very happy.”

Trooping up the stairs with the others, Licia could only wish that it would be so.

* * * *

Amanda, Lady Lockwood was a tiny woman with a face dominated by the hawkish Ravenworth nose and eyes that seemed to drill into one’s soul. No wonder, Licia thought, that her son stood in awe of her.

They sat in the Viscountess’s drawing room—Lockwood with his mama on one side and a subdued Dezzie on the other. To Lady Lockwood’s right sat her mama, the dowager duchess, and to her right the duke, Mama, with Licia on one side and Aunt Hortense on the other, completed the circle.

Mama seemed completely cowed, and Licia prayed that they might get through this visit in properly decorous fashion. But knowing Mama, she was doubtful.

Ravenworth’s sister fixed her gimlet eyes on Mama. “I understand,” she said in a voice that would cut glass, “that you did not think my son good enough for your daughter.” Here she cast such a look on Dezzie that the poor thing quite began to tremble.

Mama looked to Ravenworth, and, seeing his nod, tried a weak smile. “That is true
,
Your Ladyship. But that was before I knew the young man. And before I knew that His Grace—”

The duke cleared his throat, and Mama lapsed into silence.

“I believe you are from the country.” This remark Lady Lockwood addressed to Licia. And she pronounced the word
country as
though it left a bad taste in her mouth.

“From York, Your Ladyship,” Licia replied, wondering how this cold creature could be kin to the kind dowager duchess and to his grace.

She risked a look at Ravenworth, but his expression revealed nothing. His eyes were fixed on Mama, almost as though by looking at her he could keep her from saying the wrong thing. And perhaps he could. Licia devoutly hoped so.

“Dear Amanda,” the dowager duchess told her daughter, “Mrs. Dudley is sorry to have caused you any discomfort with her announcement. She was just carried away with happiness for her girls. Licia is to wed Ravenworth, you know.”

With his sister’s eyes on her Licia fought hard to keep her composure. No one must suspect that it was all a sham.

“Mrs. Dudley did not think to consult me, either,” the dowager went on. “And I admit to feeling a little miffed. But I do want my children to be happy. My grandchildren too.”

Lady Lockwood gave this the barest of nods. “So,” she said, turning to Licia, “you are to wed Ravenworth.”

“Yes, Your Ladyship.” She could feel his worried eyes on her. She must bear up under this.

“Well”—Lady Lockwood actually smiled—”you are to be congratulated. No one thought he would go off. How did you bring it about?”

The blood flooded Licia’s cheeks. “I—I do not know.”

Lady Lockwood’s eyes gleamed. “Nonsense. Every general knows how he won the battle.”

“I know,” said Mama.

Every eye in the room focused on her. Lady Lockwood leaned forward. “Do tell me.”

“I cannot.” Mama glanced triumphantly at the duke. “I am forbidden to speak.”

The duke’s sister frowned. “Forbidden? What nonsense. Come, tell me at once.”

Mama shook her head. “I cannot. The duke has forbidden it.”

Licia and Ravenworth exchanged glances. His slight shrug told her he had no idea what was going on in Mama’s mind.

His sister turned to him. “Tell her she may speak,” she said. “I am dying to know.”

The duke looked bewildered. “First tell me, do you give Lockwood your consent?”

“Yes, yes. They may marry.”

Dezzie half squealed, and Lockwood took her hand in his.

His mother paid them little mind. “Now, let her tell me,” she repeated to her brother.