A Grand Deception (3 page)

"Now we may begin." Muriel busied herself with the teacups, pouring a bit of milk into each. "Gusta and her husband just welcomed a daughter six months ago. They named
her Sarah"

"After your mother? How nice." Sir Samuel accepted his
tea.

"Little Michael is thrilled with his new sister, but then,
he is only just two years old. I imagine he'll be delighted
with any playmate," Muriel continued. "And Char-Char
and Sir Philip are expecting their first child any time now."

"My siblings have not yet reached the age to marry," Sir
Samuel informed them. "I do so look forward to the days
when my family can celebrate new additions." He smiled at
the prospect.

Could he have any inkling of Muriel's true feelings regarding wedded bliss? Muriel wondered. As much as she
may have appeared to be entertaining the idea of marriage,
she had no intention of taking that step.

"Allow me to come to the primary reason for my call,
besides relaying good wishes from your sisters," Sir Samuel
began. "You have previously expressed an interest in seeing
the bit of Hadrian's Wall that runs through my family's property up north." He was quick to continue before Muriel could
speak. "You need not remind me that I have promised to
show it to you someday-and I shall. If such things still appeal to you, I thought you might like to see the nearby Roman
ruins, since we are both in Town."

"Here? You mean, in London? Would you? Could you?"
Muriel tried to curb her enthusiasm and nearly dropped the
teapot in her excitement. "Take me there, that is?" She regained her composure and continued in a much calmer fashion. "I still regard such things ... as interesting, even now."

"If Miss Wilbanks would care to join us"-he glanced
in her direction-"I'm certain Mrs. Parker will think our
small party should not look at all odd if we were to travel
unchaperoned."

"What do you think of Sir Samuel's idea, Sukey?" Muriel
held out a cup. She did not believe her friend would disappoint her by refusing.

Susan accepted the teacup, glanced at Sir Samuel, and
gave in. "Very well."

Muriel really must do something for her most accommodating friend. "And by the sound of your encounter with my
cousin Miss Kimball, only moments ago, she, too, will be
delighted to accompany us if we should extend an invitation."

"Excellent! How delightful that your cousin should share your interest," he remarked. "We shall make a splendid party
of it, then."

Muriel had no objection to her cousin accompanying
them, though she actually thought that Constance would
not find their group's destination as interesting as she would
Sir Samuel's company.

As for Muriel, she could hardly wait. However did she
think it was possible to hide her true self when an exciting
excursion such as this came along?

It was so much easier for Muriel to defer to her abigail,
Lydia, and to Aunt Penny regarding the appropriate wardrobe for Almack's. It was beyond comprehension how two
grown women could fuss over a gown when all that was
suitable for Muriel during her first Season was white. What
a silly to-do they were making. In her wardrobe there were
a dozen white gowns from which to choose-and for Muriel, one was not any different from the next.

Muriel dressed in her gown of white silk. This one was
embossed with small white flowers and boasted a pale green
ruffle at the hem that matched her sash. She made the expected show of excitement, exclaiming, "There could not
have been a finer choice for my first appearance!"

She secretly hoped that her aunt had not seen beneath her
duplicity and observed how truly boring Muriel believed the
whole social scene. The parties went on and on, night after
night. But she endured dancing and the gentlemen's attention, knowing that this would ensure her continuing residence
in Town.

Muriel entered Almack's on the arm of her father. She
stood tall and held her head high. Lady Castlereagh, a Patroness of the establishment and an acquaintance of her father's, had the honor of introducing her to the other guests.

That evening, and it had only begun, Muriel made the
acquaintance of more young men than she'd met in the last
two weeks. She smiled, charmed to make each of their acquaintances, or so she told them. The introductions seemed
to go on forever, and she knew that once they came to an
end, she'd be obligated to step out onto the dance floor with
many of the gentlemen.

She abhorred dancing and thought it a waste of time. Not
that she was ill-equipped ... on the contrary, both her sisters,
Augusta and Charlotte, believed Muriel was quite graceful
and made the complex steps look effortless.

Over the last five years, she had suffered through many
lessons, prior to Augusta's, then Charlotte's, coming out,
with a third round of lessons before her own presentation to
the ton.

During one of the dance intervals, Constance, who was
ever-vigilant to the comings and goings of the guests, alerted
her friend Lady Amelia Whipple and Muriel to a noteworthy
arrival.

"Mind you do not both turn and gawk at his lordship at the
same time, but that is him, over there." Constance pointed
from behind her fan.

Muriel was the last of the trio to gaze in the indicated direction. Him, she supposed, referred to the Earl of Amhurst,
whom Constance could not stop talking about.

"He reminds me of the Prince Regent but not so old and
not so fat," Lady Amelia said upon seeing the Earl.

"He reminds me of Lord Byron!" Constance mused
aloud after further study. "Except much taller."

Muriel turned and regarded this Adonis, thinking he appeared nothing like the Prince Regent nor Lord Byron. He
did appear somewhat familiar to her, but she could not say
from where.

"Turn away, girls." Constance bodily moved Muriel by
the arm. "I believe the Earl looks in our direction."

"How fortunate we are. The Earl of Ennui is taking notice
of us," Muriel murmured, but not so softly that it escaped her
cousin's ears. What a bother these two were making over the
man.

"How dare you!" Constance straightened and raised her
chin, addressing her cousin in defiance and scolding in a
whisper, so as not to be overheard, "Lady Muriel Worth,
how could you be so dim? The Earl of Amhurst is the catch
of the Season. The circumstance of his ascension to his position has caught the sympathy of the ton."

"Sympathy?" Muriel couldn't imagine the self-important
high-flyers with whom she'd kept recent company having
compassion for anyone.

"You see," Lady Amelia added, "no one knows who he
really is"

"If he's only just come into the title, then why is he in the
petticoat line and not in mourning?" It was clear to Muriel
that the others were far more interested in leg-shackling the
Earl and not about his proper social conduct.

"Exactly. There are so many unanswered questions regarding who he is. How is it no one knows? He's such a
mystery." It seemed Constance was doing all she could to
enhance the tale she'd begun that afternoon.

"Do you not wish to know the answers, Lady Muriel?"
Lady Amelia appeared anxious to follow Constance's
lead. Both were making complete ninnyhammers of themselves.

"I do." Constance's gaze upon the Earl was intense, indeed.

Muriel almost felt sorry for the poor man.

"I cannot wait to discover where he has been keeping
himself and what he hopes to accomplish by coming to Town." Constance might have had a very dull Season, indeed, if there was not someone such as this earl to draw her
interest.

"I daresay I believe any of us could attract his attention,
but you, Lady Muriel, are the daughter of a duke, and you,
Miss Kimball, having a close connection to the Duke's
family, must have a better chance to interest him. Lady
Muriel"-Lady Amelia turned toward Muriel with her back
to the Earl-"I believe his lordship is staring at you."

Muriel turned her head, glancing at Lord Amhurst and
quickly averting her eyes when she detected that he had,
indeed, been gazing at her. "Is that what he wants? Social
connections?"

Earl or no earl, Muriel did not care for his attention. Handsome, rich, or shrouded in secrets, she simply did not care.
And she wished he would take notice of some other girl,
someone who would be more receptive.

"Oh, come now, Muriel, give him a nice smile. Let him
know you are pleased," her cousin encouraged her.

"I will do no such thing. Honestly, Constance." Muriel
addressed her cousin a bit more sternly than she ought. Well
aware his lordship's attention had not moved from her, she
uttered under her breath so softly that neither her cousin nor
Lady Amelia could hear, "The only possible way that man
could hold my interest would be if he were accomplished in
Latin and made the Classics his life's course of study!"

A lull fell over the room before a male's voice rose above
the general murmur of guests. "By Gad, is that you, Moo?"

Moo? That Lord Byron look-alike had the audacity to
call Muriel Moo while in the midst of Almack's? This was
an outrage-her childhood name shouted out in public.

Muriel had thought she could never be humiliated for the
simple reason that she did not care about the opinion of
others. Apparently she had been wrong. Not only was she
horrified, but the attention of every person in the large
room was now focused upon her.

A fire flaring in her stomach and her cheeks burning, Muriel wanted to scream in frustration. She was quite simply
mortified by the man's lack of decorum. How did he even
know her? Could it be that he was known to her and she had
not recognized him? Who was he that he knew she was
called Moo by her family and closest friends?

The Duke of Faraday summoned one of the Almack's
Patronesses with a small gesture. Lady Castlereagh was at
his side in a thrice.

"Who is that young man?" The Duke's voice was soft yet commanding, and Lady Castlereagh seemed to wither ever
so slightly at his inquiry.

"He is the new Earl of Amhurst, Your Grace," her ladyship said tastefully from behind her splayed fan.

"Ah, yes. I seem to recall hearing that the previous earl
passed on. Apparently the new earl cannot sit in the House
of Lords." The Duke glanced at Aunt Penny and Muriel. "He
has not, as of yet, reached his majority."

That would make him a very young peer, indeed, Muriel
mused. It might explain the older woman in black crepe and
the all-business manner of the gray-haired gentleman with
a black armband attending him. Perhaps they were more
advisors than companions.

"I would like to make the acquaintance of this Earl of Amhurst, if you please," His Grace replied.

An introduction was not what Muriel wished. She wished
the earl in question to take notice of anyone else in the room.
Perhaps she could claim to be disgraced by his remark and
suggest to her father that they simply leave?

"Of course, Your Grace." Lady Castlereagh stepped away
to speak to Lord Amhurst and his entourage regarding introductions and within several minutes led the group toward
the Duke and his family.

"His lordship is more than delighted to make your reacquaintance and that of your family, Your Grace," Lady Castlereagh relayed the message.

Reacquaintance? There must be some mistake. Muriel
did not know him. Surely she would have remembered their
introduction. The Earl inspected her, from her hair down the
length of her embossed white silk gown to the toes of her
pale green dancing slippers. She dared not meet his gaze,
not with him standing next to her.

"Your Grace, may I present the Earl of Amhurst?" As protocol dictated, the Almack's Patroness presented the newcomers to the Duke first.

During the lengthy introductions, Muriel glanced at Lord
Amhurst, deciding upon closer examination that there was,
indeed, something very familiar about him. His face was
not immediately known to her, but his straight brown hair
and the questioning set of his eyes ... There was something
there vaguely familiar, and recollection seemed just out of her
reach.

Lord Amhurst's returning "How do you do?" was not uttered in a familiar voice. He narrowed his eyes, squinting, as
if attempting to put her in focus.

Muriel became quite aware of the other guests around
them inching away. It was almost as if she and the Earl were
standing in the middle of the dance floor or on a stage completely alone in full observance of the other guests. The feeling of being on display washed over her.

The Earl brought his quizzing glass to his eye. "It is you.
What are you doing here?" He continued the conversation
that had somehow started with his undignified bellow of Moo
from across the room. "Do you not recognize me?"

No, she did not. Even staring at him, at this proximity,
Muriel was no closer to knowing his identity.

He tugged at the edge of his waistcoat and instantly lost
his grip on the fabric, as if he were unaccustomed to directing his fingers when they were encased in soft, pliable kid
leather.