The Pretenders (3 page)

“Mother will not like it.”

He snorted. “The last time you listened to your mother you were eight years old.”

Still I hesitated.

“Deb,” he said, “If you don’t help me out, I’m going to have to sell off my stable.”

I stared at him, appalled.

“I have to find the money to pay my debts somewhere. The hunters will have to go.”

His eyes glittered. He had me, and he knew it.

I let perhaps ten seconds of silence elapse. Then I said tightly, “All right, Reeve, I’ll pretend to become engaged to you.”

He put his arm around my shoulder and gave me a brief, hard hug. “You’re a great girl, Deb. I knew I could count on you.”

“You blackmailed me,” I accused, as he shortened his reins and backed the horses in preparation for leaving the glade.

He chuckled.

Oh well, I thought, what we were doing couldn’t be so very terrible. I had always thought that Reeve’s father had done him a terrible injustice in making that will.

And it was certainly nice to see Reeve looking cheerful again.

I made Reeve come with me to break the news to Mama of what we were planning to do. As I had predicted, she was utterly opposed to the scheme.

“It is deceitful,” she said. ”I cannot like it.”

“It isn’t really, Mrs. Woodly,” Reeve assured her. ”All I have to do is assure my cousin that I am engaged, and he will pay my Derby debts.”

“But you are not engaged,” Mama said distressfully.

“Yes we are,” Reeve returned. ”We just don’t plan to
remain
engaged, that’s all.”

He looked at me for confirmation, and I rolled my eyes.

We were sitting in the parlor of our cottage, Mama and I on the settee perpendicular to the fireplace, and Reeve on one of the two straight-backed chairs that faced the settee. He always looked absurdly large in this small room.

Mama said next, “It is not as simple as you are making it out to be, Reeve. For one thing, Lord Bradford will most certainly expect to be introduced to Deborah.”

Reeve waved his hand like a magician. “No reason for him not to be.”

I looked at my dress and thought of the rest of my wardrobe. “Reeve,” I said, “I look like a pauper. Mama is right. This idea of yours is simply not going to work.”

“Yes it will,” he said, ”and I am going to tell you why it will work. I had a run of luck at Watier’s two nights ago.”

I stifled a groan at this news. Watier’s was one of the most expensive of the gambling clubs in London, and I hated to hear that Reeve was patronizing it. He surprised me, however, by concluding, “I actually got out of the game with ten thousand pounds in my pocket.”

Ten thousand pounds was a huge sum of money to me, but for a man like Reeve, who owed seventy thousand, it was pin money. I was surprised that he had not tried to increase the money he had won by continuing in the game. He was not known for getting out early.

“Do you know what I am going to do with that money?” he asked me now.

I shook my head, mystified.

“Take you to London and buy you a decent wardrobe,” he said smugly.

“What?”

“You heard what I said.”

“I cannot allow you to do that for Deborah, Reeve,” Mama said firmly. ”It wouldn’t be proper.”

“Nonsense,” Reeve said. ”I look at it as a ten-thousand-pound investment that will net me a great deal more money in return.”

“Just a moment, here,” I said. ”When I agreed to pose as your promised wife, I did not bargain on a trip to London and a new wardrobe.”

Reeve stretched his legs out in front of him so that one polished boot rested on the ankle of the other. “Deb, I’ve said there’s nothing wrong with your birth, and there isn’t, but there sure is a hell of a lot wrong with your wardrobe.”

I scowled at him. “This masquerade is getting a lot more complicated than you originally said it would be.”

He gave me a patronizing smile. “Just remember those hunters, Deb.”

“Deborah,” Mama said, ”I forbid you to do this.”

I remembered the hunters.

“I have to, Mama,” I said piously. ”I can’t leave poor Reeve in the lurch. It would be terribly unfair.”

He gave me a wicked grin. “Now that’s the attitude a man likes to hear from his promised wife.”

With difficulty, I restrained myself from throwing something at his supremely self-satisfied face.

Reeve had a town house in Berkeley Square, which is where he escorted Mama and me two days after our discussion in the glade. The Season was almost over in London, and Reeve said he would be able to introduce me to the
ton
relatively quietly, as most of the large balls had already been held.

I did not want to be introduced to society at all, but Reeve insisted that it was necessary. We would purchase an appropriate wardrobe—both for me and for Mama, who would act as my chaperone—and I would make my appearance at a few of the end-of-Season balls.

He made it all seem very simple.

It did not turn out to be quite as simple as he had indicated.

The wardrobe part was not difficult. The dressmaker Reeve escorted us to in Bond Street appeared to enjoy herself very much in making me the basic wardrobe that I would need in order to appear in society, and she did the same for Mama.

I had to confess that it was a pleasure to have pretty, fashionable dresses for a change, and the dressmaker was full of enthusiasm for my slim waist and long legs, which she said were perfect to set off the high-waisted dresses that were the current fashion. My flaws were that my bosom could have been larger, and she was horrified to see a slight swell of muscle under the smooth skin of my upper arms and my back.

“I ride a lot of horses,” I explained.

“This is no problem with day dresses, but your evening gowns.
Mon Dieu
! I will design dresses with small sleeves to hide this malformation,” Mme. Dufand decided. She bit her lip. ”Unfortunately, there is nothing I can do about your back.”

“Lord Cambridge will not mind my muscles,” I assured her. ”After all, it is his horses that I ride.”

She was doubtful, but after a little coaxing she made me up three gorgeous evening dresses.

Mama, too, was outfitted with a new wardrobe. She fretted and worried and her conscience bothered her, and I tried to get her to relax and enjoy herself.

“Believe me, Mama, the ten thousand pounds that Reeve is spending would just have been handed back to the bank at Watier’s if he had not had the incentive to pull off this masquerade for Bernard,” I told her with perfect truth.

It took Madame Dufand only two days to have the rudiments of a wardrobe ready for Mama and me, and that was when Reeve sent notice to Lord Bradford of his engagement. He also put a notice in the
Morning Post
. It announced our engagement, and that Mama and I were visiting in Berkeley Square for a few weeks before we retired to the country for the summer months.

I had to admit I got the strangest feeling in the pit of my stomach when I saw my name written down in black and white:
Deborah Mary Elizabeth Woodly, daughter of the late Lord Lynly of Lynly Hall;
then came Reeve’s name; then came:
a marriage has been arranged
.

Last week at this time I had been floating down the River Cam with Mr. Liskey. Now here I was in London with Reeve, preparing to meet London society as his intended bride.

I prided myself on my nerves of steel. I could throw my heart over any fence, boldly take a nervous horse across any ground, but the thought of appearing in a London ballroom made me as tense as a three-year-old when he first encounters a pack of hounds.

“I have an invite to the Merytons’ ball tonight, Deb,” Reeve had said cheerfully at breakfast. ”That should be a good enough place for you to make your debut as my intended.”

His white teeth snapped a piece of bacon in half. He chewed it with relish.

I narrowed my eyes as I looked at him. “How many people are likely to be at this good-enough ball?”

“Not above two hundred, I should think,” he replied. ”London is starting to thin out as people go to Brighton or to their country estates.”

“I realize that two hundred people might not seem like much to you, Reeve dear, but it is a great many people to us,” Mama said softly.

He reached across the table to pat her hand. “I will take care of you and Deb, Mrs. Woodly. Never fear. All will be well.”

Hah
, I thought. If I was reduced to relying on Reeve to take care of me, I was in trouble indeed.

DRESSED FOR THE MERYTON BALL IN A STATE OF
nervous apprehension, which I valiantly tried to keep hidden under a calm exterior. The maid whom Reeve had hired to attend to my personal needs did my hair in a deceptively simple knot at the base of my neck. White roses were tucked around the knot, and she used the curling iron to coax two soft ringlets to dangle alongside my ears.

The hairdresser had originally wanted to cut my hair short, which was the current style. However, once I learned that this meant I would be forced to spend hours each day under a curling iron, I had put my foot down and insisted that she leave it long.

The maid was doing up the small covered buttons at the back of my pale blue-silk dress when the door opened and my mother came in.

She looked utterly beautiful. Unlike me, she had agreed to have her hair cut and the short, feathery, silver-blond curls that framed her face made her look so young she quite took my breath away.

“You look beautiful, Mama,” I said sincerely.

She smiled. “You look nice too, dearest.”

Bless Mama. She knew the last thing I wanted at the moment was effusive comment on my appearance.

“Is Miss Woodly ready yet?” she asked my maid, whose name was Susan.

“I will be five more minutes, Mrs. Woodly,” Susan replied.

Mama patted me gently on the arm, and said, “Then I will wait for you downstairs, Deborah.”

I nodded.

Exactly seven minutes later, I was walking slowly down the stairs of Lambeth House, still striving to keep my nervousness from showing on my face. As I came around the curve of the staircase I glanced to the bottom of the steps and saw Reeve standing there, looking up at me. His face was wearing an expression I had never seen before.

“Good God, Deb,” he said. ”You’re beautiful.”

I reached the bottom of the stairs and gave him a doubtful look. “Do you really think I look all right?”

“All right?” He continued to stare at me. ”I think you’re rather more than all right.”

I smoothed the silk of my blue gown. It was cut lower than anything I had ever worn in my life, and I filled out the décolletage admirably. Madame Dufand had certainly known how to disguise any deficiency I might have in that department. Reeve certainly thought so. He was standing at me with unabashed interest.

Reeve himself looked splendid. His black evening coat fit perfectly over his wide shoulders and was only slightly darker than his eyes and his hair.

“Stop looking at my bosom,” I said irritably.

He grinned.

Mama came in from the drawing room, where she had been waiting. “Deborah, darling, are you ready?”

I looked at her again in admiration. She wore a sky-blue gown that brought out the color in her eyes, and she looked as fragile and beautiful as a piece of delicate china.

If I lived to be a hundred, I would never look like a piece of delicate china.

“I shall be escorting the two most beautiful ladies in all of London,” Reeve said gallantly.

I gave him a dark look. “If you desert me at this party, I shall kill you,” I informed him.

“The men will be swarming all over you,” he said. ”I’ll never be able to hold on to you.”

“I won’t know anyone, Reeve,” I pointed out. ”I get asked to dance at home because everyone knows me.”

“You don’t look like this when you go to dances in Cambridge,” he said positively. ”Madame Dufand has done you proud.”

“She should,” I said. ”She cost enough.”

“Stop complaining.” Reeve settled a light cloak around my shoulders, then did the same thing for Mother. ”The carriage is waiting, ladies. Let’s go.”

Mother and I allowed him to hustle us out the door.

The Meryton ball was a revelation. I had never seen so many elegantly dressed people in one place at the same time. Nor had I ever been the subject of such breathless attention.

It began with our hostess, who stared at me with unabashed curiosity. “So you are the lucky woman who has captured our Corsair,” she said.

I looked at her in utter bewilderment, not knowing what to reply.

Corsair?

“Lady Meryton, allow me to make known to you Miss Deborah Woodly,” Reeve said sternly. ”She has promised to be my wife.”

“But where did you find her, Cambridge?” Lady Meryton said. ”You must know that the
ton
is in a state of shock about this sudden announcement.”

Reeve’s face was wearing its blackest look.

“Reeve and I have known each other forever, ma’am,” I said quietly. ”My home is near Ambersley, you see.”

“Well, you are a very lucky young woman, my dear,” Lady Meryton informed me. ”Half the young ladies in London have gone into mourning.”

With difficulty, I refrained from rolling my eyes.

We left Lady Meryton in the hall and progressed to the entrance to the drawing room, where the dance was being held. The minute we appeared on the threshold, everyone turned to look at us.

“Good heavens, whatever is the matter?” I muttered to Reeve out of the side of my mouth.

“Pay no attention to them,” he said, but I could see that he was annoyed. He took my arm and almost pulled me into the drawing room. Mama walked quietly at my other side.

A little whisper of excitement rippled around the room.

I had never in my life caused such stir. It had to be Reeve.

Whatever was going on?

There was a dance forming up as we came in, and Reeve immediately took my hand and led me to the floor. He didn’t say anything, but the set of his jaw was rather grim.

The dance was a quadrille, which required me to pay close attention to my steps and didn’t give me much opportunity to question Reeve about what was happening. As soon as the dance was over we returned to Mama, who had found a place among the chaperones, and I was preparing to quiz Reeve about the oddity of our reception when two gentlemen came up to us and demanded to be introduced to me.

Reeve looked resigned. “Deb, these are two good friends of mine. May I present Colonel Angus Macintosh of the Scots Guards, and Mr. Devereaux Miles, who has been a friend since Eton.”

The Colonel was a bluff-looking older man with sandy hair and an unfashionable sandy mustache. Mr. Miles was Reeve’s age, with smoothly brushed blond hair and attractive hazel eyes.

Mr. Miles said, “I am so pleased to meet you, Miss Woodly. It was quite a shock to learn that Reeve has decided to get riveted, you know, but now that I’ve seen you I can perfectly understand his decision.”

“Thank you,” I said.

I knew as soon as Mr. Miles said Reeve’s name that he was in fact an old friend. Reeve had been called by his father’s second title, Baron Reeve, ever since he was born. At his father’s death five years ago, he had become Lord Cambridge, but to those of us who had known him since childhood, he would never be anything but Reeve.

“Wonder if you would give me the pleasure of the next dance?” Mr. Miles continued charmingly. He looked at Reeve. “That is, if Reeve don’t mind my poaching on his territory.”

I glanced at Reeve, but all he did was give me a bland smile and tell me to go ahead.

I danced with Mr. Miles.

I danced with Colonel Macintosh.

I danced with a large number of other gentlemen whom Reeve presented to me.

Except for the two times that he danced with me and the one rime he danced with Mama, Reeve didn’t dance at all. Instead he spent the evening leaning against the wall next to Mama’s chair, with his arms folded across his chest. He talked occasionally to Mama, and the rest of the time he watched the room with hooded eyes and a faintly mocking smile on his lips.

Most of the women in the room appeared to be surreptitiously watching him.

It was not until I paid a visit to the ladies withdrawing room that I learned something about Reeve’s London reputation.

It began when a very young lady with a heart-shaped face and huge violet eyes came up to me and said breathlessly. “I am Amanda Pucket, Miss Woodly, and I’m sorry if you find me rude but I will just
burst
if I don’t find out how you and Lord Cambridge met.”

I repeated what I had said earlier, about Reeve and I knowing each other forever.

“Oh you are so lucky!” This came from another starry-eyed seventeen-year-old. ”To be marrying the Corsair!”

This was the second time someone had called Reeve the Corsair.

“Er, is
Corsair
Lord Cambridge’s nickname?” I asked in bewilderment.

The circle of girls stared at me as if I were mad.

“But… surely you know
The Corsair
?” Amanda Pucket said.

My face told her that I did not.

“It is Lord Byron’s newest poem,” she informed me. ”Ever since it was published in February people have done nothing but compare the hero, Conrad, to Lord Cambridge.”

“Good heavens,” I said faintly. Poor Reeve.

“Conrad is supposed to be modeled on Byron himself, of course, but Lord Cambridge is so much handsomer,” Amanda told me reverently. ”He has sable-colored hair that tumbles down across his forehead, just like Conrad’s, and flashing dark eyes, just like Conrad’s, and…“

Another young lady closed her eyes and quoted soulfully:

There was a laughing Devil in his sneer, That raised emotions both of rage and fear…

“A
laughing devil
?” I had to struggle to keep from laughing out loud myself.

Another young lady quoted even more soulfully than the first:

He knew himself a villain
—
but he deemed The rest no better than the thing he seemed
.

All of a sudden I didn’t feel like laughing anymore.

“You see, Miss Woodly,” Amanda explained, ”Conrad has this deep dark secret that has wounded his very soul, and that is why he acts as he does.” She gave me a sunny smile. ”You must read
The Corsair
, you really must.”

“Yes,” I said. I felt slightly sick, but I did my best for Reeve. ”Lord Cambridge is really nothing like the Corsair, you know, even if he does have sable-colored hair and flashing eyes.”

The smitten Amanda sighed. “You know what Caro Lamb said about Byron, Miss Woodly: “Mad, bad, and dangerous to know.’ Well, my Mama said that those words are twice as applicable to Cambridge and that I was to stay out of his way.”

All the girls gazed at me with longing.

“Lucky you!”

When we reached home, Mama was tired and went up to bed, but I knew I wouldn’t sleep unless I had a chance to unwind first, and so I asked Reeve if we might have a cup of tea in the drawing room.

“Come into the library,” he said. ”You can have tea, and I’ll have a glass of brandy.”

I followed him down the black-and-white marbled floor of Lambeth House’s hallway to the library door. Together we went inside the high-ceilinged, oak-paneled, book-lined room. Reeve went to a cupboard in the corner of the room to get a bottle and gestured me to one of the striped silk-covered chairs that was pulled up in front of the carved-oak fireplace.

A minute later he took the chair opposite mine. He put the brandy bottle on a small pedestal table next to his chair, poured himself a full glass, stretched out his legs, crossed his ankles, and took a swallow of his drink.

“I thought you’d be popular, but I didn’t quite realize you’d be the belle of the ball, Deb,” he said. He took another deep swallow of brandy. ”Half of those fellows who asked you to dance I scarcely even knew.”

The butler came into the room with my tea in a pretty Wedgwood service, which he set up on a low table in front of me. I poured myself a cup and stirred in some sugar. I sipped it gratefully, looked up, and found Reeve watching me, a tense frown between his straight dark brows.

I said, “This
Corsair
business must be driving you mad.”