The Willful Widow (8 page)
Tony? Come tell me that you are not in one, and then I shall be concerned. Besides, I haven't a feather to fly with, so I daresay I shall be of no use to you whatsoever."
"Oh no, you have it all wrong," Sir Ralph interjected, "the man truly is in desperate straits. His mama is convinced it is time he married."
"And what is worse, she has picked out a bride for me." Tony's dismay was so patent that the others could not help laughing.
"And who is this fortunate young lady? Her parents must be all about in the head if they would take you for a match for their daughter."
If possible. Tony looked even more woebegone. "It's Lady Amanda Felthorpe. Her mama and my mama were at school together, so you see it is a hopeless case. They have always been thick as thieves and of course mama now expects
me
to escort her daughter, dance with daughter and..." Tony shuddered and could not go on.
Diana frowned as she conjured up a picture of Lady Amanda, a mousy young lady with the strictest of principles. 69
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"Yes, I see, it does rather give one pause. Perhaps I should warn her of the life that she is likely to lead as the partner of such a rattle as you. And you, Tony, would do well to point out to your mama, in the most delicate possible manner of course, that a wife would naturally require so much attention that you would not have time to dance attendance on her as she now demands. For with the best will in the world, you cannot desert a wife to escort your mama to any of the routs and balls in town, or to take the waters in Bath, or to flit from one friend's estate to another, as she is so accustomed to doing."
Tony beamed. "There, lads, didn't I tell you she would know what to do?" He grabbed Diana's hand and kissed it effusively. "You are a woman beyond price, Lady Diana. Thank you. But, it begins, we shall not bother you any longer."
"What you mean is that you wish to return to your seats in time to catch a good glimpse of the dancers," Diana retorted smiling.
They all grinned good-naturedly and left the box as precipitately as they had entered it.
Witnessing this byplay, Justin snorted in disgust. Reginald was even more a fool than he thought if he couldn't see that the lady was a hardened flirt as well as a fortune hunter. It was high time the lad was given a talking to, but now the audience was applauding and for the moment, Justin gave himself up to the appreciation of his mistress's considerable charms and talents as she and the ballet appeared onstage to a vociferously enthusiastic audience.
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At the end of the first act, the sight of Reginald again gazing fervently on as Diana chatted with a group of young men reinforced his uncle in his resolve to do something. That this particular set of admirers, remarkable only for their rather sober dress and serious demeanor, appeared to be friends of Reginald's made not the least bit of difference to Justin nor, it appeared, to Lady Diana Hatherill. The hussy smiled and laughed just as gaily as she had with Ferdie's confreres, and St. Clair fumed all the more at the laughs and attention she was drawing.
With no very clear idea of what he was going to do or how he was going to proceed, Justin grimly made his way to the box, too preoccupied to acknowledge the languishing looks cast at him by some of the ladies in the surrounding boxes. Even Sally Jersey failed to attract a glimmer of a smile, causing her to comment to her companion, "Whatever do you suppose is ailing St. Clair? He looks positively blue-deviled." Fortunately, Reginald was just leaving the box to go in search of refreshment for the ladies, thus sparing his uncle the necessity of resorting to some devious stratagem for getting him alone.
"Uncle Justin, I am delighted to see you here. I had hoped perhaps we might..."
His uncle sighed inwardly at the welcoming smile on his nephew's ingenuous face, which betrayed not the slightest hint of consciousness. A man in some doubt about the appropriateness of his choice of a life companion or properly respectful of his parents' strictures would have revealed some small sign of discomfort, but not Reginald. 71
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"I am so glad you have come," Reginald reiterated. "You must meet Lady Diana Hatherill." The name was whispered so reverently that Justin felt he was like to be sick. Such romantic infatuation would have made him queasy at any time, but coming from a former young sobersides and in reference to a woman who was no better than she should be, it was positively nauseating.
"You will like her, I know you will," his nephew continued eagerly. "She is quite out of the common way, not like so many women one meets who can speak of nothing but fashion and dress. Her father was a notable scholar and raised her without any of the silly notions you find among the rest of her sex. Her mind is most well-informed, and she is quite without vanity,"
Justin restrained himself with considerable effort.
"I know Papa would approve of her if he could only rid himself of the notion that she is after Great-Aunt Seraphina's fortune. You can see that she and her great-aunt are the dearest of friends, and Diana has confided to me that she wishes to make her own way in the world. In general, Papa's opinions are well considered, but I fear that this time his judgment is outweighed by worldly concerns." The viscount dismissed his parents' worries with a shake of his head. "But come, meet her."
That's what you get, Alfred, for prosing on forever at the lad, Justin thought gloomily. He's been so filled with moral platitudes that he has become too high-minded for his own good. A young man who had been allowed to sow his wild oats in a proper fashion would have recognized the lady and 72
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the situation for what they were, and would not be in the mess that Reginald found himself in.
"No, I do not agree with you. Handel is, of course, inspiring, but his oratorio's inspire by overwhelming the audience rather than enchanting it. I believe Mozart to be the better composer, His harmony is far more deftly woven, and the listener is influenced subtly without being aware of it. I find that to be a greater art," a silvery voice caught his ear as Justin followed his nephew into the box.
He glanced over to see Lady Diana deep in conversation with one of the earnest young men surrounding her, and the picture she made, her smooth white forehead wrinkled in thought, head tilted speculatively, a look of deep concentration in her blue eyes, forced Justin into the unwilling recognition that this was a serious conversation. There was nothing the least bit flirtatious about her or the situation.
"Perhaps, Lady Diana, but do you not agree that this is not a work that is truly illustrative of Mozart's particular abilities?" Her companion was as immersed in the topic as she was, and his expression was one more of respect than admiration for the lovely picture she made.
"You see what I mean?" Reginald whispered in his ear,
"Denby is a brilliant fellow—a first-rate scholar—but he's so shy, he barely talks to us, let alone to women. Lady Diana is always so interested and so stimulating that she puts anyone at his ease, unlike so many ladies who smile and laugh and make a fellow feel awkward and foolish if he doesn't know how to offer them pretty speeches."
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However loath he was to revise his opinion of the lady, Justin, judging by the evidence at hand, had to admit to the truth of his nephew's remarks; but appearances could be deceiving, and there was no doubt that Lady Diana was remarkably clever. There was no more time for speculation as Reginald, grasping his uncle's arm, urged him forward to meet his companions.
Justin bowed low before the two ladies, wondering ruefully to himself when, if ever, he had impressed two women less. Lady Walden was friendly enough, but he could see her sizing him up as though he were the veriest schoolboy, and somehow he felt he did not quite measure up—a most uncomfortable sensation for one accustomed to charming ladies of all ages and degrees.
There was no doubt as to the hostility of Lady Diana's expression. She was all that was polite—soliciting his opinion of the opera, admitting to having heard a great deal about him from his nephew—but the eyes that swept over him, while they blessedly did not reveal the slightest hint of recognition, were distinctly unfriendly, and there was an unmistakably frosty note in her voice. It was abundantly clear to all and sundry that Lady Diana Hatherill remained unimpressed by Justin St. Clair. Even Suzette de Charenton, trying unashamedly to catch a glimpse of her lover through a crack in the curtains backstage, could tell from that distance that her wishes had been granted and one woman at least appeared to be immune to Justin's considerable charms. Not only was the woman immune to them, she actually seemed to dislike him, if the rigidity of her posture and the 74
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defiant tilt of her head were any indication. Suzette could not help smiling to herself. Personally, she could not understand such an absurd reaction, but it would be great fun to tease Justin about it later. Irresistible as he was, there was just the slightest bit of arrogance about him that made her want to see him taken down a peg. No, it was not arrogance precisely, it was colossal self-assurance. Woman had been falling at his feet for so long, herself included, that he simply never entertained the possibility that they wouldn't succumb to his considerable attractions.
Suzette was intrigued. It was from a distance, of course, but the lady in question did not appear to be an antidote or an ape-leader or one of those women who were so unattractive that they hated men out of self-defense. It seemed quite the contrary, if the eager crowd around her were any indication. Suzette pulled the curtain together and hurried back to her dressing room to check herself in the looking glass before reappearing onstage. The dancer was highly amused. She hoped that Reginald would force his uncle to endure the lady's company, as it was bound to have a salutary effect. At the same time, she was curious about a woman who remained unmoved by such a splendid specimen of manhood as Justin St. Clair.
Suzette was not the only one to be puzzled by Diana's reaction. Once again outside the box, as he returned to his original quest of refreshment, Reginald could not help remarking on the strange coldness between his uncle and his ladylove. "You must have overwhelmed Lady Diana. Ordinarily she is all that is charming, but I could see that she was 75
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somewhat shy in your presence. Perhaps it is that she has been in mourning so long that she is unaccustomed to all this attention. But is she not lovely, Uncle Justin? With so many who admire her, I cannot believe that she allows me to call on her and escort her occasionally. In most cases, I would not have the audacity to ask someone like her to be my wife, but I cannot help myself. However, it is hopeless, for she will never marry again."
"Oh?" Justin's ears pricked up at this piece of news.
"Yes. Unfortunate, is it not, for she would make a splendid viscountess, or a duchess for that matter. Her husband did not leave her with a feather to fly with, but she says she has had her fill of looking after men, and now she intends to look after herself. I suppose one cannot wonder at it with an absent-minded recluse for a father and a wastrel for a husband, both of whom were utterly irresponsible and let their inheritances slip through their fingers without a thought for her. It is a great shame." Reginald sighed gustily. "But excuse me, I must procure something to drink for the ladies." He plunged off into the crowd, fumbling his way toward the refreshments.
Justin stood for a minute, an arrested look on his face. Why the little jade! She had no more idea of marrying Reginald than he did, but she had allowed the viscount's father and uncle to think that she meant to do so, purely out of spite. He grinned, in spite of himself, remembering his first encounter with Lady Diana. What a fire-eater! Though out of fairness to the lady, Justin had to admit that he would have 76
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been equally incensed if someone had dared to interfere in his affairs the way they had in hers.
The situation called for some delicacy. He could not withdraw the pressure and allow the lady to think she had won. Neither could he push her so far that she accepted Reginald's suit merely to prove a point. From the little he had seen of Diana, Justin could believe her entirely capable of doing such a thing. Perhaps, for once, Alfred in his own bumbling way was right—seduction was the only answer.
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In the ensuing days, Justin did his best to observe his quarry. Attaching himself to his nephew seemed to be the most effective way to discover Lady Diana's whereabouts, for there was hardly anything that the besotted young man did not know about the pattern of her daily existence. He never tired of expounding on her manifold charms—her grace, her beauty, the elegance of her mind, her intellectual accomplishments ad infinitum—until his uncle thought he was like to be ill of hearing them.
Anyone else would have wondered at this sudden interest on the part of an uncle who had hitherto been bored to distraction by any member of the Earl of Winterbourne's family, but Reginald, never observant at the best of times, was lost in a fog of happiness at the opportunity for catching even the briefest glimpse of his ladylove. Thus it was that he even took to riding in the park, though he was an indifferent rider at best and subject to the whims of his horse, a stolid bay with a gloomy disposition and a predilection for his own stall.
Though he considered himself above such frippery things, Reginald could not help remarking on the magnificence of the animal on which his uncle was mounted one afternoon as they rode together. It pleased him to be seen with such an impressive pair as Justin and Brutus. "Lady Diana is a most elegant horsewoman and is extremely fond of horses, as 78