“His Royal Highness, the Prince of Wales, and Mr. George Brummell,” the butler at Lord and Lady Perry’s Town house intoned.
The company present in the drawing room bowed low.
For the Prince, of course.
Lady Perry had insisted upon giving a small party before she and her lord retired to the country for the winter. I greeted her and Perry now. “Lady Perry, how kind you are to be giving a dinner. May I hope you are feeling more the thing these days?”
She nodded. “Thank you, yes although I shall be happy to settle into Perry Grove until spring.”
Her husband stood at her elbow. “I insisted that Cook be aided by Gunter’s excellent catering so that Bernadette need not fret over the menu tonight. If I had my way, we would already be enjoying the country air.”
His wife rolled her eyes heavenward at Perry’s anxiety.
Victor Tallarico approached, and we exchanged greetings. “You have already been to the country at Oatlands, I hear, Mr. Brummell.”
“Yes, I have. Autumn in the country is a balm to one’s senses,” I said, wondering how he knew of my visit to Freddie’s estate.
The Italian gave a pained smile. “Sad to say, the Duchess hasn’t invited me to Oatlands yet. But I plan to correspond with her regularly and have hopes for an invitation before long. Her Royal Highness is a bello creature, too often alone.”
I fixed the Lothario with a seemingly benign look. Certainly he showed no sign of awareness that I wished to throttle him, which I did. “You are all kindness, I am sure, but the Royal Duchess does not lack for anything. Pray do not trouble yourself with her happiness in the future.”
Tallarico could not have misinterpreted my message, but he could choose to ignore it. “A lady can never be too happy, Mr. Brummell. And as to the happiness of ladies, I am particularly sad for Lady St. Clair and her daughters.”
“Their circumstances cannot be comfortable,” Lady Perry said.
“On the contrary, my love,” Perry said, “Recall that Lady St. Clair’s family is quite wealthy. They shall rise above the scandal, wait and see.”
Yes, I thought, money could open many closed doors. Lady St. Clair and her daughters would retire from Society for a while. Eventually the scandal of her husband’s deeds would die down. Mr. Ainsley would marry Lady Prudence in a quiet wedding. No doubt the young man would use his bride’s money to pursue his ambitions. He might very well be elected to a seat in the House of Commons.
Speaking of scandal, this very evening party was designed to put a halt to any gossip Sylvester Fairingdale had initiated regarding a break between the Prince and me. Throughout the
drinks and mingling that preceded dinner, everyone present could clearly see that his Royal Highness and I were on the best of terms. If they could not, then they were shortly enlightened.
After chatting with the assembled guests, the Prince turned and spoke to me for all to hear. “Brummell, I want to show my appreciation for your loyalty.” He pulled a heavily jeweled snuff box from his pocket.
There was a general murmur of appreciation at the sight of such a costly item. Rubies encrusted the lid, broken only by a pattern of diamonds in the Prince of Wales’s feathers. The box sparkled in the candlelight.
The Prince extended his hand, offering it to me. I hesitated, then took it. The expression on his Royal Highness’s face was anything but one of generosity. Instead, he looked miserable at having to part with what had—perhaps suddenly—become his favourite snuff box.
Petersham stepped over to examine the box. “Impressive, truly impressive. Rundell and Bridge, your Royal Highness?”
“Yes. Made for me over the summer.” Prinny’s face was positively glum.
Lord Munro came over and raised his quizzing glass to inspect the box. “Very fine craftsmanship, but then that is to be expected from Rundell and Bridge.”
Petersham deliberately ignored him, and Lord Munro quickly walked away. Their relationship had not been restored.
The Perrys’ butler returned and announced that dinner was served.
“A moment, your Royal Highness. As much as I am honoured by the generous spirit of your gift, I would be pleased if you retained the box for yourself. My allegiance to you needs no reward.”
The Prince gladly accepted the trinket back from my hand. “Good of you, Brummell. I’ll have another made for you. Er, not right away, though. I’m spending the winter at my Pavilion.”
I bowed, thinking I would sooner see females admitted as members of White’s than be gifted with another snuff box by Prinny.
“Best be careful, your Royal Highness. You remember what happened the last time Mr. Brummell passed a snuff box to you,” Tallarico jested.
Everyone waited nervously for the Prince’s reaction to this artless remark. But then Prinny laughed, and the company followed suit.
Lord Perry shot me a look that plainly said, “I told you my cousin was trouble.”
As we moved toward the dining room, I pondered whether between us Perry and I could contrive a way to ship the Italian back to his homeland.
The atmosphere over dinner was jovial, though. The Perrys’ table abounded with delicious food. Conversation was lively.
Later, I went home in a pleasant state of mind, other than having the niggling feeling that I wished Tallarico would leave Freddie alone. She had not spoken of him during our too-short weekend together, which I took as a sign that the Italian had not yet orchestrated his way into her life. And the devil would not succeed in doing so if I had anything to say in the matter!
Dear, sweet Freddie. Her generosity and kind nature extended to Marie. The Royal Duchess had arranged passage for the troubled Frenchwoman to return to her homeland. Perhaps there Marie would eventually recover from the tragic events that had befallen her.
Climbing the steps to my bedchamber, I thought back over Freddie and our long walks together, the card games we played, and the afternoons when we enjoyed watching the puppies’ antics.
Freddie had indicated a desire to learn the finer points of archery. Manfully, I had volunteered to teach her in the spring, banishing mental images of holding her so I might show her just the way to pull back the bow. She already knew how to bend the Beau to her will.
In my chamber, Robinson helped me undress for bed, still miffed over having to remove both Oatlands’ dog and Siamese cat hairs from my clothing.
After leaving me alone with a tea tray, the valet strode from the room, head held high.
“Well, Chakkri, my latest adventure is over. I daresay I am looking forward to spring and the Season. Everyone is always on their best behaviour then, eh?”
The cat stood at his favourite place by the fire. He licked a spot over his left shoulder.
I pulled my portable writing desk out, sat in the high-backed chair near the table with the tea things, and balanced the desk on my knees. The cat heard the rustling of paper and jumped to the arm of the chair to watch. I stroked his fawn-coloured body, then turned to the task at hand.
“Here, I am going to make a sketch of some spectacles for Miss Lavender. Although her father will be furious at the thought of my giving his daughter a gift.”
“Reow!” the cat said.
“I daresay Miss Lavender might not feel obliged to tell him.” My pencil flew over the paper, drawing a feminine and fashionable pair of spectacles.
“Mr. Lavender and the local magistrate closed down Sir Simon’s house, you know. Most likely the property will revert to the Crown since the baronet died without heirs. The revenue men will be glad that one segment of the smuggling trade will cease.” I reached for my teacup and took a sip of the hot brew.
Chakkri shifted his weight on the arm of the chair.
Studying the drawing in front of me, I decided it would not do. The design was too ornate for Miss Lavender. She would want something feminine, yet simple. I crumpled the paper and tossed it into the fire.
Chakkri flew after the balled paper, skirting the tea things. He stood and glared mournfully as his would-be toy was consumed by the flames.
“You want to play? I shall indulge you. I am so pleased you managed to get past my fine Sevres teacups without mishap. I do not know what had made you so clumsy around the tea things lately.”
I made the offer gladly, but the capricious ways of felines are a mystery to me.
Chakkri ignored my invitation to a game. Instead, he cast a look of catly disdain over his shoulder at me before he turned and walked from the room, favouring me with only a view of his tail end.
I wish to thank Sally Osbon for opening her London home to me so that I enjoyed an extended visit to the capital. This book is dedicated with love to my son, Tom Stevens.