The Pretenders (5 page)

“Well, you can dance with Mrs. Stucky for one. And it would be polite to dance with your hostess as well.”

He scowled at me.

“Lord Bradford will think you rude if you don’t dance,” I said.

His scowl deepened.

“Stop being such a martyr,” I recommended. ”Look at me. Last night I spent more time talking about the weather than I have ever done in my entire life, and you haven’t heard me complaining, have you?”

He lifted his eyebrows at me in surprise. “Were you bored, Deb? You looked as if you were having the time of your life.”

“Let us say that the conversation of most of my partners was scarcely scintillating.” I gave him a minatory look. ”It seems to me that if I can make sacrifices for this pretend engagement of ours, Reeve, so can you.”

He slid down on his spine a little and folded his arms across his chest. I saw his eyes glitter wickedly. “I fail to follow your logic, Deb. If I dance with other women, then people will think that I don’t care about you, whereas if I lean against the wall all night and stare at you hungrily, everyone will be convinced that I am madly in love.”

I said in my most practical voice, “Reeve, I don’t think it is precisely wise to have people think that you are madly in love with me. We are eventually going to call this marriage off, remember? Let’s not overdo the love business.”

There was silence in the coach for a few minutes while Reeve once more stared out the window. I regarded his splendid profile, and gave him a chance to work things out on his own.

At last he turned back to me. “Oh, all right, I suppose you are right,” he mumbled irritably. “But nothing will induce me to dance with those silly chits who always look as if they will faint whenever I come within speaking distance of them.”

SO

I thought of Amanda and her friends. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to dance with them, either.” I pushed one of the damn ringlets away from my neck. “There has to be a matron or two whom you can safely squire to the dance floor, just to demonstrate your courtesy to Lord Bradford.”

He scowled at me. “Why do I let you talk me into these things?”

“Because you know in your heart that I am right,” I said.

“No, it’s because I owe you a debt for agreeing to this pretense, and you are exploiting that fact shamelessly,” he retorted.

I grinned. “How can you think such a thing?”

He grunted, leaned back against the rich brown-velvet squabs, and closed his eyes. We neither of us spoke again until our carriage pulled up in front of Larchmont House in Grosvenor Square.

There was not quite such a commotion when Reeve and I were introduced at this dance as there had been the evening before. For one thing, Larchmont House had a ballroom, so there was room for a very large number of people, and the new guests coming in were not as noticeable as they had been in the Meryton drawing room. We were also a party of six this evening, and much as I disliked Lord Bradford, it was comfortable to be part of a group of ordinary people and not merely an appendage of the famous—or infamous—Corsair.

We stood along the side wall of the ballroom, in front of a large gilt mirror and next to a massive arrangement of roses. Reeve sighed and bent his head to mine.

“Another bloody boring evening,” he murmured in my ear.

If Mama or Lord Bradford had heard that
bloody
, they would have had a fit.

I smiled up at him sympathetically. “I’m looking forward to supper,” I said. “Your cook is so ghastly that I saved my appetite. I hope they have lobster patties, like the Merytons did last night.”

He grinned. “You ate an obscene amount of those lobster patties last night, Deb.”

“And I plan to eat an obscene amount of them tonight as well,” I replied.

“Is my cook really that bad?”

“Yes.”

“That’s peculiar. I never noticed.”

“It’s because your stomach is always in such a wretched state from all the wine and gin and brandy that you drink,” I said austerely.

He gave a longing look at my hairdo. “I wish you were wearing your braid so I could pull it.”

“Touch my hair, and you die,” I informed him.

He chuckled. “All right, all right.” His face sobered. “According to the incredibly tedious rules of Lady Jersey and her cohorts on the Ladies Committee of Almack’s, I am only allowed two dances with you. We will make one the supper dance—and what about this next quadrille?”

“Certainly, my lord,” I said sedately. ”That will leave you an ample amount of time to dance with Mama, and Mrs. Stucky and Lady Larchmont.”

He sighed. “Oh, all right”

The music ended, and he took my hand and led me out to the floor.

The Larchmont ball proceeded much along the lines of the Meryton ball the evening before. Reeve did dance more, as he had promised me he would, but he also spent an inordinate amount of time holding up the wall with his shoulders. He did not look as bored, however, as a number of his friends were in attendance this evening and so he had some men to talk to. He and his friends also spent a good deal of time frequenting the punch bowl, and by the time he came to claim me for the supper dance his eyes were looking distinctly glazed.

“You need air, not a dance,” I proclaimed as soon as I saw him, and taking his arm, I steered him through the French doors at the back of the ballroom, which opened onto a terrace. It was a warm night, and the shrubbery hiding the back garden from the stables gave off a scent that almost made one feel one was in the country.

“I am not foxed,” Reeve said in an injured voice.

“I didn’t say you were foxed,” I replied.

“Well, you implied it.”

“Your eyes look glassy.”

“That is because I am bored,” he said, his voice even more injured than before.

He
was
foxed, I knew, and I also knew that he was foxed precisely because he was bored. Clearly he didn’t like these large society balls. Nor had he been happy during the few drives in the park we had taken since our arrival in London. Not for Reeve the slow, stately procession of vehicles that made up the afternoon ritual of the
ton
.

“It seems to me that you are not overly fond of London, Reeve,” I said in a voice that I strove to keep light. ”Everything bores you.”

He shrugged. “There are a few things that are all right. It’s good fun having a go at Gentleman Jackson’s boxing saloon, and I like practicing my shooting at Man-ton’s and my swordplay at Angelo’s. As for the rest of it… the clubs, the dances, Almack’s…” He shuddered, then raised his voice. “Damn it, Deb, why do you think I bought a racehorse? I needed some excitement in my life!”

You don’t need excitement, Reeve, I thought. You need to have the sole control of Ambersley. You need to be in charge of your own land, your own people, your own heritage. A racehorse is not the answer to your restlessness.

It had long been perfectly clear to me that one of the reasons why Reeve got into so much trouble was that he had nothing meaningful to do with himself. I had never been able to comprehend why Lord Bradford did not understand this. It was precisely because Reeve had no say in the running of his own property that he avoided Ambersley. And the more time he spent in London, the more dangerous his activities became. The drinking, the gambling, the outrageous stunts, the opera dancers, all of the things that Lord Bradford so deplored, would probably cease if Reeve could only have control of his own destiny.

I believed this most profoundly. In truth, it was the main reason why I had agreed to this shocking masquerade. I had made his threat that he was going to sell his hunters an excuse for me to go along with him. Reeve and I had been friends for a long time, and I felt an obligation to help him if I could.

We stood together on the terrace of Larchmont House, and I looked up at him in the dim glow cast by the light coming from inside the ballroom. I said urgently, “Reeve, don’t do anything to cause Lord Bradford to think he has made a mistake in promising to turn over half of your inheritance to you.”

His brows drew together. “I have no intention of doing anything to outrage Bernard.”

“Then don’t let him see you drinking!” I snapped. ”You have spent half the night dipping into the punch bowl. Don’t you think that Lord Bradford noticed?”

He ran his hand through his hair, causing it to tumble down over his forehead. Amanda and her friends would swoon when they saw it. “I was only having a few cups with my friends,” he said, but I could tell he was now on the defensive.

“Listen to me, Reeve,” I said fiercely. I stepped closer to him and straightened his neckcloth and smoothed back his hair with fingers that were none too gentle. ”You are going to behave yourself while we are engaged, or I am going to back out of this bloody masquerade and leave you hanging in the wind.”

“You wouldn’t!”

“Watch me.”

“Do you know that you are the prettiest girl in the room tonight?” he said unexpectedly.

“You can’t turn me up sweet, Reeve, I know you too well. Now come along. We are going to walk around this little garden for a few minutes and you are going to breathe deeply and try to get your head in order. Then we are going in to supper.”

“How did I ever get myself engaged to such a shrew?” he grumbled, but he let me take his arm and move him onto the graveled path that went around the little garden.

“You begged me,” I reminded him.

“I must have been mad.”

“You were desperate,” I said. ”And you still are. Remember that, Reeve, and remember what I have just said.”

I felt a sudden sharp pull on one of my ringlets. I jumped and made a noise indicative of both surprise and pain.

“I couldn’t resist,” came Reeve’s laughing voice from somewhere close to my ear.

“All right,” I said. ”
Touché
. Shall we call it even?”

“Even it is.” He linked his arm in mine. “How many turns will we need before you can go and attack the lobster patties?”

He actually seemed to be walking fairly steadily on his own. “Ten,” I said, and, meekly, he agreed.

WHEN WE WENT INTO THE SUPPER ROOM WE
saw Mama sitting with Lord Bradford, and at my urging, we joined them. The fresh air had removed the glaze from Reeve’s eyes, and altogether he conversed with perfect articulation and good sense. I was convinced that he had made a favorable impression on his trustee.

It was not until the following day that I discovered that perhaps Reeve had made too favorable an impression. Lord Bradford arrived at Lambeth House during morning calling hours to invite Reeve and Mama and me to a house party at his home in Sussex.

Reeve was at Tattersalls during our interview, so he did not learn about the invitation until he came home late in the afternoon.

“Bernard what?” he shouted when I told him the news.

“He invited us to visit him in Sussex,” I repeated gloomily. ”He wants to get to know me better, he said. He plans to put together a small house party for our entertainment.”

“Entertainment? Bernard? By God, that’s a joke.” Reeve began to stride around the room like a caged tiger. ”The two words don’t fit together in the same sentence.”

Mama said, “Lord Bradford seems a very pleasant man, Reeve.” She was distressed. “Deborah and I did not know how to turn away such a generous offer.”

“That’s easy,” Reeve said. ”We’ll say we’re busy.”

“Doing what?” I demanded.

“We’ll think of something.”

“What?”

He glared at me out of outraged dark eyes. “Surely you can think of something, Deb. You’ve always been the one with the imagination.”

I thought, I
was not the one who had the brilliant idea to paint the historic house of the Head of my college yellow
.

I held my tongue, however, and said instead, “Do stop prowling and sit down, Reeve. I can’t think of a single thing.” I waited until he was at least leaning against the window wall before I continued patiently, “Now, let us look at this situation from Lord Bradford’s point of view. He thinks we are really engaged. He is your closest relative, and he wants to introduce me to the rest of your family. It makes sense, after all, doesn’t it?”

A very strange look came over Reeve’s face. “The rest of the family?” he said. “By any chance did he mention if my cousin Robert was going to be there?”

“Is Robert one of his sons?”

“His eldest son.”

“Then yes, he did say that his sons would be there.”

Reeve groaned.

“What’s the matter with Robert?”

“We don’t get along,” Reeve said briefly.

Mama was wringing her hands. “I am sorry if you are displeased, Reeve.”

“Don’t apologize to Reeve, Mama,” I told her. ”He has brought all of this on himself.” I turned back to my fiancée”. “We have to go,” I said flatly. “We have to go, and you have to behave yourself, and if we can convince Lord Bradford that you are indeed a reformed character, then I think perhaps you can get him to sign over half your fortune to you before the wedding.”

“Deb, do you know how incredibly boring a visit to Bernard is going to be?”

“We’ll have horses, I presume,” I said. ”The Sussex Downs are supposed to be wonderful to ride along.”

He still hadn’t sat down. “Wakefield Manor is rather a pretty property,” he admitted. “It sits right on the crest of the South Downs in West Sussex, not far from the sea.” His scowl deepened. “It’s not the locale that is the problem, it’s the company.”

“Reeve, it will only be for a few weeks. You yourself said that we should probably have to extend this mock engagement for at least that length of time.”

He settled his shoulders more firmly against the wall and looked extremely discontented. “I don’t want to go to Bernard’s.”

My patience snapped, and I slammed my hand down on the arm of the sofa where I was sitting. “Stop being so petulant. Do you or don’t you want control of your own heritage?”

He glared at me. “Of course I do.”

“Then stop complaining and go to Sussex.”

At that he flung himself into a chair, stretched his booted legs in front of him, and closed his eyes. “You don’t understand,” he said wearily. “Going to Sussex means listening to Bernard going on about my lack of responsibility from morning till night. I don’t think I can stand it.”

“He won’t call you irresponsible if you don’t act irresponsibly,” I said. ”And you won’t act irresponsibly, because I will be there to keep you in line.”

He opened his eyes and looked at me. An emotion I couldn’t identify glittered in their dark depths. “You will?”

“Yes.”

He gave an elaborate sigh. “All right, all right, I’ll go. I only hope you know what you are getting us into.”

“I can endure anything for a few weeks if it’s in a good cause,” I said piously. I narrowed my eyes at him. ”And you can, too.”

He gave me a mock military salute. “Yes, ma’am.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” I said. ”Now would you care for some tea?”

“How about some Madeira?”

“Tea,” I said.

“Oh, all right, I’ll have some tea.”

“Mama, will you ring for the tea tray?” I asked sweetly.

Poor Mama, who had been quiet as a mouse during my skirmish with Reeve, gratefully pulled the bell and summoned the butler to ask for tea.

Lord Bradford left town the following day in order to prepare for our visit to Sussex. During the remainder of the week we spent in London before we followed him, Reeve and I kept busy by making a number of expeditions together. He took me to the Tower of London and to Astley’s Amphitheatre, where we saw a wonderful equestrian exhibition. He also put together a party of his friends for outings to Richmond Park and Hampton Court.

Reeve’s friends were a high-spirited lot, and I could see why he found them amusing, but except for Dev Miles, his old friend from Eton, I wasn’t overly impressed by any of them. I judged them to be friends for good times, not the sort that one could count on when the chips were down.

Richmond Park, on the outskirts of London, was known for its wonderful horse paths, where one could gallop full out to one’s heart’s content—unlike Hyde Park in central London, where one was constrained to a modified canter at best.

It was faintly overcast when we left London for our expedition to Richmond, but the air seemed to clear as we drew closer and closer to the country. As we rode along, each of Reeve’s friends made a point of pushing their horses up alongside of mine so that they could speak to me. I would have thought that this was mere politeness, had I not found myself somewhat disconcerted by the outrageous compliments with which they bombarded me. After all, I was supposed to be engaged to Reeve. Wasn’t it inappropriate for them to make me the subject of such continuous and outrageous flattery?

I could see that Reeve didn’t like it, either. The young women whom these men were ostensibly escorting didn’t seem to mind, however. They were too busy flirting with Reeve.

Once we reached our destination, however, and Reeve gave our admission tickets in at the gate, the tenor of the afternoon changed. Reeve and I were able to give our horses free rein and gallop flat out along the wide, well-trimmed rides, easily outdistancing the rest of our party. It had been a long time since we had ridden together like this, and the sheer pleasure of it more than made up for the annoyances we had been forced to suffer along the way.

Reeve had arranged for a picnic to be brought from London for us, and when we returned to the grassy, tree-enclosed area where such informal meals took place, it was already laid out by several of the Lambeth House footmen. There was champagne for the gentlemen, tea for the ladies, and an assortment of cold meats and breads and cakes to eat.

I took a glass of champagne and a plate of cold chicken and went to sit at one of the simple wooden trestle tables provided by the park.

Reeve left his groom, who had been driving the curricle with the food, and came up to stand across the table from me. “Don’t drink too much of that stuff, Deb,” he warned. “You’ve got to stay in the saddle on the way home, remember.”

“I believe I can manage one glass of champagne, Reeve, without putting myself in danger of falling off my horse,” I returned haughtily.

“I’m sure you can, Miss Woodly,” said one of Reeve’s friends, a silly, blond-haired fellow named Hampton, who took the seat next to me and looked at me with unabashed admiration. ”Dashed if you don’t have the best seat on a horse I’ve ever seen on a woman.”

Now
this
was a compliment I could appreciate. “Thank you, Mr. Hampton,” I said, giving him a smile that was not a mere social twitch of the lips.

He blinked and beamed back at me.

“Aren’t you going to get yourself some food, Hampton?” Reeve growled. ”Or do you think making a cake of yourself over my fiancée is sufficient nourishment?”

Mr. Hampton glanced at the expression on Reeve’s face, and his silly smile disappeared. He stood up hastily. “Just going, old fellow. No need to fly up into the boughs, you know.”

I glanced up at Reeve and was surprised to see him looking so thunderous.

“Why don’t you take your own advice and get some food?” I said mildly.

He grunted. He was looking at me with his brows drawn together as if he were not pleased.

“Are you really that upset that I am drinking champagne?” I inquired.

“What? No, of course not.”

One of the women in the party, a young widow who was accompanying one of Reeve’s friends, came over to us with a plate of food in her hands.

“You are not eating, Lord Cambridge?” she asked archly. She gazed up at him out of sultry green eyes. ”Allow me to get you something.”

Good God
, I thought irritably,
she sounds as if she were propositioning him. And right in front of me
! I scowled.

Reeve caught my eye and suddenly grinned, his temper miraculously restored. “Thank you, Mrs. Wethersby, but I will get something for myself,” he said, and went off to fill up his plate with chicken and ham and beef and cold pigeon pie, which he washed down with five glasses of champagne.

He sat solid as a rock in his saddle the whole way home. I suppose one of the results of too much drinking is that after a while one begins to get used to it.

Our visit to Hampton Court the following day was more pleasant than the trip to Richmond Park had been. We went by boat up the Thames, and as we shared our boat with Mr. Miles and his sister, who was a very pleasant, well-mannered girl, I enjoyed the trip upriver very much. Then, once we reached our destination and joined up with the rest of our party, Reeve and I were able to get rid of them by the simple expedient of losing ourselves in the famous Hampton Court maze. We found a bench where we sat for several hours in the pleasantly warm sun and chatted about a dozen or so things that interested us, among them the crying need for parliamentary reform; the injustice of the Corn Laws; and the unfortunate performance of Lord Liverpool as Prime Minister.

One of Reeve’s secrets was that he was far more interested in politics than anyone would ever suspect. However, he refused to grace the House of Lords with his presence for the same reason that he rarely came home to Ambersley for more than a few days at a time.

He would never feel himself to be truly Lord Cambridge until he had control of his heritage.

We left London for our visit to Sussex on the last day of June. Mama and I rode in Reeve’s town chaise with another chaise following us filled with our baggage and Susan, whom Reeve had brought to attend Mama and me.

“Two maids might be excessive in an establishment like Bernard’s,” he had said, ”but you will look positively shabby if you do not have someone to take care of your clothes.”

“But how much money do you have left from your winnings, Reeve?’ Mama had said worriedly. “Are you certain that you can afford this?”

“Yes,” Reeve had said uncompromisingly. He gave Mama a look of mock severity. ”You will make
me
look shabby if you are unattended, and surely you do not want that“

As Mama never knew how to deal with anyone when they stood up to her, she had immediately ceased to argue. I had enough sense to realize that Reeve would know more about what was expected in such a situation than I did, and so I didn’t argue with him at all. Consequently, Susan rode in the following coach along with Reeve’s valet, Hummond, both of them keeping watch over the baggage.