Lord Robert arose as he’d intended, at a perfectly inhuman hour, and managed to wash and dress more or less efficiently, despite his eyes’ stubborn refusal to remain open during the process.
Nonetheless, they opened wide enough when he arrived at Hyde Park in time to see Miss Cecily Glenwood, attired exactly as she had described, dismount from a saddleless horse. Her groom threw him one anguished look, then turned his back and began to resaddle the beast.
As the young lady met Lord Robert’s stupefied grey gaze, she coloured, as well she might.
His focus jerked from the top of her cap—from which one golden strand escaped—to stumble at the worn jacket, before colliding with the snug-fitting breeches. Heat stung his neck, and he barely skimmed the scuffed boots before returning to her rosy countenance.
“You are about early, my lord,” she said brightly.
“Miss Glenwood.”
“Oh, you’re going to scold,” she said, “As though Harris hasn’t been doing it half the morning already.”
Lord Robert yanked his brain back from wherever it had gone, shook it to attention, and got very little for his pains. “I—I can’t scold,” he said. “I hate it when people are always lecturing at me. But Miss Glenwood.” He stopped dead, again at a loss.
She moved closer to stroke his mount’s nose. His horse nuzzled her, and she giggled. Lord Robert dismounted.
“Miss Glenwood,” he tried again.
“I suppose you are very much shocked,” she said, more to the horse than to the gentleman.
“Well, you know it is not every day that one—one sees a young lady in—in, well, not in a frock, you know. It isn’t the usual thing, actually, and so I suppose it is a sh—a surprise.”
“You should not be surprised. I did tell you, after all.”
“Yes, Miss Glenwood, and I do hope you’ve told nobody else.”
“Oh, no. I shouldn’t have told even you, because now you’ll— No, you won’t, because I warned you, didn’t I, that I have no hope of being a fashionable young lady? Maybe I should not have told you that, either, but you are so understanding.” The wide blue eyes opened full upon him then, a cloudless, innocent sky, and his heart gave such a thump that he started.
“Well, I do know what it is to be chafing under rules and ordered this way and that, but... but— Oh, really, I can’t think what to say,” complained the sophisticated man of the world.
“Maybe you’ll think of it later.” She glanced at her now-saddled mare and long-suffering groom. “You can tell me then. I had better not stay, in any case. Good morning, Lord Robert.”
He watched her wave away Harris’s helping hand and climb lightly into the saddle. Lord Robert should not have watched, because the rear view was even more disconcerting than the front, and the image of one small, round bottom burned into his brain as though it had been applied with a branding iron.
As Lord Robert dragged his gaze from Miss Glenwood’s retreating figure, he discovered another figure advancing— if so staggering and crablike a motion could be calling an advance—towards him. It was attired in a bottle-green coat and canary-yellow trousers, and its hat was balanced precariously over one ear.
“Downs!” the figure called out. “What ho, Downs!” It gave a lurch, sending the hat flying, and hurled itself at Lord Robert, who stepped out of the way in time to avoid being knocked over. The figure tottered dangerously towards the horizontal, then clumsily righted itself.
“You’re abroad early, Beldon,” said Lord Robert.
“Jus’ goin’ home. But I say, d’you see that?”
“What?”
“That.” Mr. Beldon flung his arm in the general direction of the vanishing figure of Cecily Glenwood. “A girl, don’t you know? A girl in chap’s clothes.”
“You’ve had a long night of it, Beldon,” said Lord Robert calmly as he retrieved the hat. Equally composedly, he handed it to his acquaintance. “Those were my cousin’s stable lads, exercising his cattle. You had better get yourself to bed before you begin seeing pink elephants and purple tigers as well.”
“Good heavens, Robin,” said Lord Brandon when his cousin—after going back to bed and making a futile attempt to sleep—came in to breakfast. “You are as pale as a ghost. Was there a pea in the mattress?”
“No,” said Lord Robert. “I was perfectly comfortable, thank you—that is to say—well, I was not comfortable in my mind.”
“I wish I could sympathise, but I am always quite comfortable in that way. I have a very well-regulated conscience. It never troubles me, and I return the favour, and so we get on famously.”
“It isn’t conscience—at least—no. But I can’t think what to do.”
“Why, nothing easier. There is the sideboard. Fill your plate, or summon someone to fill it for you. Personally, I prefer to do without my staff’s assiduous attentions at breakfast. A dollop of austerity in the morning gives me a properly balanced view, I find.”
Lord Robert rubbed his forehead and walked with a vacant air to the sideboard. He stood there for several minutes, staring helplessly at the array of covered dishes.
“It doesn’t matter what you take, Robin. The affairs of state will continue grinding, even if you choose a rasher of bacon over a sausage.”
His words proving ineffective, Lord Brandon rose, filled a plate for his cousin, and guided the young man to a seat.
“Take up your fork,” said the marquess. “That is a scientifically verified mode of beginning.”
“Thank you,” said Robert absently, and absently he swallowed a few mouthfuls before putting his silver down. “I am confused,” he said.
“Indeed you must be. You have just emptied the saltcellar upon your bacon.”
“Regarding a young lady,” said Robert. “That is to say, I feel I ought to do something, but I can’t for the life of me think what it is.”
“Perhaps you will think of it later,” said Lord Brandon, betraying not a glimmer of curiosity.
“That’s what she said. Yet I’ve been churning at it for hours now, and nothing I contrive will do. No, it won’t do at all,” he said, shaking his head.
Lord Brandon calmly stirred his coffee. “I never pry, Robin. Still, if you wish to unburden yourself—and would not violate a trust in doing so—I shall give an excellent appearance of attending.”
The younger man threw him a look of gratitude. “Yes, please, if you will—that is—well, it is a secret, so I must ask—”
Lord Brandon solemnly swearing himself to eternal silence, his cousin proceeded to relate the morning’s experience.
“Ah, yes,” said the marquess when the tale was done. “I recollect her. Miss Glenwood struck me as a young lady of uncommon energy.”
“She’s very high-spirited, Julian, and really she’s practically a child—so how could I read her horrid sermons about propriety? But you know it won’t do. Beldon saw her, and if he hadn’t been utterly cast away at the tune, I’d never have convinced him it—she—was one of your grooms, and the news would be all over London by now. So she must be got to stop, of course, and I suppose her ogre aunt could stop her—but then, I should be carrying tales, you know.”
“No, you had better not upset her aunt.” Lord Brandon might have added that Mrs. Davenant was sufficiently upset for the present, thanks to him, but he did not, for he was not, generally, a boastful man.
“Then what’s to be done?”
Lord Brandon reflected for a few minutes as he sipped his coffee, while Lord Robert strove for patience.
“Well?” the young man prodded, when his short supply of that article ran out.
“Being very young and country-bred, Miss Glenwood is likely accustomed to far more freedom than she has in Town. Her family is horse-mad, I understand. Undoubtedly, she has been riding since her infancy. In that case, sedate trots along bridle paths cannot be satisfying. If she had a riding companion equally skilled and daring, and if she rode out sufficiently early with proper chaperonage, I daresay she might have a decent gallop, even in London, without causing a stir. Perhaps that would obviate the necessity for dawn rides in breeches.”
Lord Robert considered. “You think I ought to go with her, Julian?”
“Oh, any skilled horseman—or -woman—will do, I suppose,” said the marquess, covering a yawn. “So long as the individual is not objectionable to the aunt. She—or her companion at least—will be a tiresome but necessary adjunct.”
“Gad,” said Robert. “Now I must turn the aunt up sweet, and I don’t think it can be done.”
“Perhaps not. That is a great deal of exertion on account of one high-spirited miss.”
“But if I don’t, she’ll be found out, and everyone will say she is a hoyden—or worse—and really, she’s a very good sort of girl. A child, actually, though—” He stopped short, flushed, and cleared his throat, then hastily rose and excused himself.
As early as was decent, Lord Robert Downs presented himself at Davenant House. He could do no more, unfortunately, than leave his card.
The family was not at home to visitors today, the butler informed him, though naturally they would look forward to seeing his lordship on the following evening.
When Lord Robert’s face went blank, Cawble unbent sufficiently to say, “Miss Glenwood’s comeout ball, my lord. I was given to understand you had accepted the invitation. It was sent to Lord Brandon’s domicile, along with his own, inasmuch as the family had not your direction.”
Lord Robert showing no signs of moving, and appearing, if possible, further at sea than ever, Cawble unbent a bit more.
“Perhaps,” he invented, “the notice being so short, his lordship accepted on your behalf and neglected to mention it in the press of his numerous obligations.’’
Lord Robert’s face cleared then. “Yes, he must have done. Yes. Quite so. Thank you. Good day.”
***
“I do not understand,” said Lilith. “How can they accept invitations I never sent?”
She, Emma, and Cecily were in what would be the supper room, revising arrangements. Following the Countess Lieven’s ball, some score or more invitees had discovered they did not have previous engagements after all.
They were coming, Lilith knew, to obtain tidbits about her imagined relationship with Lord Brandon. Until this morning, she had enjoyed the prospect of disappointing them, for she had not and had never intended to invite the marquess. Now the vexatious man was coming anyhow.
“Oh, my,” said Emma. “It was I sent them.”
Lilith looked at her. “But they were not on my list.”
“No.”
Cecily came to Mrs. Wellwicke’s rescue. “I asked her,” she said. “The other day, I asked if she had sent Lord Brandon and Lord Robert invitations yet, because Lord Robert never mentioned coming, though all the other gentlemen have - and so I thought his might have gone astray, you see. You did invite all the others I’ve met, so naturally I thought—” She studied her aunt’s stony countenance, “You did not mean to invite him at all, Aunt?” she asked, evidently baffled.
“Oh, dear,” said Emma. “I simply assumed she had discussed it with you beforehand. Meanwhile, obviously Cecily assumed I would know who might be invited and who might not. Well, this is a muddle.”
Lilith’s mouth tightened a bit, and her shoulders straightened a bit, and she said in her usual cool way, “Not at all.” And that was the end of it.
The matter was ended, that is, until Lady Enders arrived to help.
She worried that the flowers would not be delivered on time, and if they were, they would be the wrong ones and the colours would clash and the lobster patties would upset Lord Enders’s digestion, and the Prince Regent would come after all, which meant the windows must be kept tight shut and everyone would faint, and other like catastrophes. Then, done with “helping,” she set upon the real object of her visit, the satisfaction of raging curiosity regarding Lilith’s ride home the previous evening.
Rachel would not dare question her directly, Lilith knew. Regardless how she was questioned, the widow had no intention of confiding any of her troubles to anybody—and most especially not her future sister-in-law.
Still, Lilith had to endure a set of apologies: Rachel and Matthew should never have consented to being taken home first, and if that could not be helped, they should have taken Lilith with them and sent her on in a hired vehicle, if necessary, with Matthew as escort, and they would never forgive themselves, especially if Lord Brandon had been disagreeable in any way, which Rachel hoped he had not been?
When Rachel wished to pry, her idea of subtlety was to end declaratory statements on an interrogatory note.
“A libertine is by definition disagreeable to me,” Lilith answered. “All the same, there is nothing to pardon in you. I am not a green girl, and I imagine one brief unchaperoned ride will not sink me beneath reproach.”
“Of course, my dear. Naturally, he saw you home speedily, as he ought, and it was foolish of me to be concerned for your safety. Even Brandon must know better than to behave improperly with an affianced lady?”
“Yes, I am sure he must.”
“I do hope you had not to wait up for Cecily. I recollect you were feeling poorly, and I worried you would not have sufficient rest. But I daresay she was home before you were?”
“She returned quite early, according to Mrs. Wellwicke.”
Lady Enders scrutinised her face. “I fear, all the same, you did not sleep sufficiently. You seem pale, Lilith. Doubtless it is the comeout ball on your mind? Arranging a young lady’s debut can be so stressful, perhaps even more so for her family than for herself?”
“Perhaps.”
“Well, at least you will be spared one distressing guest. You did say Brandon was not invited. I remember distinctly, because I thought at the time it reflected so much to your credit. Many hostesses will invite some of the most unsavoury characters, merely because they are attractive and amusing— as though these men were no more than decorations.”
“It appears we shall have such decoration,” Lilith said, folding her hands very calmly before her. “There has been a misunderstanding, and both Lord Brandon and his cousin, Lord Robert Downs, plan to attend, I am informed.”
Several stiff green ribbons jerked to attention. “A misunderstanding? You do not mean to say he had the effrontery to invite himself?”
Lilith briefly explained the situation, accompanied by her guest’s expressions of disbelief and dismay.
“Indeed. Well, I am very sorry,” Lady Enders said, shaking her head. “Though I see it cannot be mended now. One can only hope he will not again subject you to the sort of attentions which gave rise to so much distressing talk scarcely a week ago. One is, unfortunately, judged by the company one keeps.”
“I trust you do not mean to imply I am keeping company with such a person,” came the chilling reply.
Lady Enders spluttered and fussed and declared this was not what she meant at all. The trouble was, Lord Brandon had singled Lilith out at the Lievens’ ball, had danced once with her, and left almost immediately thereafter—
“Perhaps,” Lilith interrupted, “because I bored him to distraction.”
“My dear, it is not I who say this, but others. You know how it is. No one has ever been able to breathe scandal about you, and lesser persons are always too eager to bring others down to their level. There are some who say he pursues you for precisely that reason—because you are so far above his touch.”
“Then I must congratulate their acuteness of vision. It is far superior to my own, for I perceive no signs of being pursued and therefore need contrive no fanciful reasons. In any case, I feel we have this day expended far more breath upon the topic than it merits.”
***
The afternoon had advanced considerably when Lord Robert’s conscience finally awoke and agitatedly reminded him of his mistress. Filled with self-reproach, he sped to Henrietta Street, and within a quarter hour had thrown this same conscience into twelve fits by telling a series of bouncers.
“Drunk?” Elise repeated. She sat at her dressing table, stating at his reflection in the glass. “I cannot comprehend. You are always so moderate—in that, at least,” she added with a naughty smile.
He did not observe the smile, being preoccupied with sniffing in a baffled way at the air.
“Robin?”
“What? Oh, sorry. Did that clumsy maid spill your perfume again? The room fairly reek—that is to say,” he hastily corrected, “everything smells odd today, don’t you know. I expect it’s the after effects. Really, you should be thankful I kept away. I wasn’t a pretty sight, according to Julian—and this morning I was cross as a bear.”
“Poor boy,” she said, turning slightly. She reached up to tousle his fair hair affectionately. “You had not your little Elise by to nurse you.”
“Well, I didn’t want to subject you. That’s hardly fair, when it was my own dratted fault. But really,” he went on hurriedly, “it was one of those curst dull parties, and there was no other way to amuse myself, so I made free with the wine. I should have thought, I’m so sorry I worried you. You look as though you haven’t slept a wink. What a selfish beast I am!”
“But, mon cher...” She paused. Her looking glass reflected a beautiful young woman, well-rested, her skin smoothed with exotic emollients, the paint subtle, virtually invisible. She was five and twenty, yet might easily have passed this day for five years younger.
“Ah, I slept,” she said after a moment. “But my dreams were bad.”
In touching proof of his remorse, Lord Robert promised not to stir from his mistress’s side until late the following day. He didn’t want to leave her even then, he assured her, but if he appeared occasionally in Society, his relatives’ ruffled feathers might be smoothed a bit. It would be pleasant, wouldn’t it, to spend the next few months free of harassing visits and letters? After that, of course, the family must stop pestering him, mustn’t they? Because then he and his darling Elise would truly commence their life together.
The noble self-sacrifice he proposed, along with his expressions of affection and loyalty, ought to have touched his future bride’s heart. Regrettably, that was about the only way she was touched. Today there were no passionate embraces, and the few caresses he bestowed were perfunctory. Mainly Elise was showered with words—from a young man whose verbal gifts were not of the highest order.
Furthermore, Lord Robert seemed to be in the throes of very long-enduring drink aftereffects, for Elise caught him more than once sniffing the air in the same vaguely disturbed way. That night, he fell asleep as soon as he climbed into bed.
Lying beside him, the wise Elise found in these and other small matters much to reflect upon. Being wise, she put them together logically enough, and was troubled all the more.