A Matter of Honor (21 page)

Aggie offered her thanks quickly and turned to follow, but was detained by the Earl’s, “A moment, Miss Trimble
.”

“Yes
,
milord.” She did not want to look up into his eyes and yet she did.

“Do you suppose she could really form an attachment for that young fool?” he asked quietly.

Aggie shook her head. “I should like to say that it is impossible
,
milord, but I cannot. The only thing we can do now is wait. If we say nothing
-
” She shrugged. “Cecilie may well tire of him. Also
,
he may forget her.”

Denby’s jaw stiffened. “I doubt that,” he said grimly. “I’ve heard of young Gale. He’s in a bad way financially. He needs an heiress of Cecilie’s caliber. Also, if he thinks he can bamboozle her later as he did tonight with all those nauseating compliments...” He shook his head. “If he offers for her, I’ll have to refuse him. I can’t in good conscience let her marry such a wastrel.”

Aggie’s heart overflowed with compassion for him. Whatever had come between them, he was obviously doing his very best for Cecilie and that was not at all easy. Without thinking, Aggie laid a hand on his sleeve. “Don’t get yourself upset yet, milord. It will all work out. And I will do what I can -indirectly, of course - to channel Cecilie’s
affections in some other direction.” She sighed heavily. “If only some acceptable man would present himself.” She smiled slightly. “Acceptable to you
and
to Cecilie.”

The Earl smiled, too. “We shall just have to wait until he does.” His f
i
ngers covered the hand that rested on his sleeve and Aggie, aware suddenly of the danger of touching him so familiarly, tried to draw it back. But he captured and kept it. “I want to thank you, Aggie, for your help.” His eyes grew warm as he gazed down at her. “I have been ungrateful at times - and rather overbearing, I fear.” He smiled ruefully. “But Cecilie
is
rather an unusual girl and I am new at the guardian business.”

Aggie nodded, but her thoughts were not on his words. He was standing so close, she was so terribly conscious of his physical presence. Even worse, she was aware of a deep yearning within herself, a yearning to throw herself into the arms that were so close to her. She swayed slightly toward him and for a fraction of a second it seemed that he might reach out for her, but suddenly he dropped her hand and took a step backward. “Good night, Aggie. Sleep well.” And then, with another warm smile, he turned away, leaving her to climb the stairs and to tell herself, not very convincingly, that she was quite pleased he hadn’t kissed her. After all, she did not want to go through
that
again.

Chapter Fourteen

The next morning Aggie woke to the sound of Dillydums’s cheerful chattering. The monkey was swinging gleefully from the bed curtains. His little black eyes gleamed at her impishly as he reached out a tiny paw toward another hold.

“Cecilie,” Aggie called. It was time to get up anyway. She was rather interested in hearing what Cecilie would have to say about the previous evening. She did not intend to mention Lord Gale herself, of course; the less said about that Bond Street fribble the better. But if he had appealed to Cecilie,
she
might mention the fact and it would certainly be good to discover what she could.

Aggie pushed back the covers and reached for her robe. It was impossible to sleep with the little monkey chattering and swinging overhead. She smiled briefly. It was really no wonder that Denby had been startled by Dillydums
,
especially since he had not even known there was such a creature in the house.

As she moved toward the wardrobe to choose a morning gown
,
Aggie’s smile turned to a frown. She was having far too much good feeling for the man who had deserted her. The whole thing still seemed impossible. Surely she could not have imagined the feeling that had existed between them. It was true she had been young and naive, but still
...
She sighed, choosing a gown temporarily forgotten. It seemed incredible that he could have departed as he had, without so much as a word. Yet he had done it. She sighed deeply. The more she saw him in relation to Cecilie the more she realized that he was a good man. If he showed perhaps more temper than was comfortable for those living in his establishment, that was to be expected. At times Cecilie’s behavior was enough to make anyone enraged. And always he seemed to have Cecilie’s best interests at heart. It was not uncommon for a guardian to marry his ward where and when it would benef
i
t
him
and not every man would give consideration to the wants and wishes of the young woman involved.
Yes,
Aggie thought,
his lordship was behaving very well where Cecilie was concerned.

As for herself - She brushed the thought aside and reached hurriedly for the gown. She would not think of him in relation to herself
,
he meant nothing to her.

But the gown that Aggie withdrew, a sprigged rose muslin several years old, had a rip in the side seam, which she discovered as she was about to draw it over her head. With an exasperated noise, not at the rip but at the thought of his lordship and the new gowns which it evoked, she tossed it on the bed and went to look for another. The next, of blue dotted muslin, was also faded, but at least its seams were intact. She pulled it on.

“Good morning, Aggie.” She turned as the gown fell around her to see Cecilie standing barefoot, rubbing her eyes.

“Good morning. Did you sleep well?”

Cecilie nodded. “Yes, of course.” She opened her arms to Dillydums
,
who jumped into them and began to play with a stray curl that had escaped her nightcap. “What are you doing in here bothering Aggie?” Cecilie
asked the monkey in cooing tones.

“He wasn’t bothering me,” said Aggie. “It’s time to get up.”

Cecilie nodded. “Yes, it looks like a lovely day. I was wondering if we might go to Somerset House and see the paintings from the Royal Society’s Exhibit. I should like to see some of Lawrence’s latest portraits.”

Aggie considered. “I think you had best ask his lordship for permission.”

“There are many great and beautiful paintings on display there,” said Cecilie soberly. “I am sure it would be good for me to see them.”

Aggie smiled dryly. “I should not tell the Earl that they are educational,” she said. “Your last attempt at education was very diff
i
cult for us all.”

“I know,” said Cecilie in a repentant voice. “And I’m truly sorry for it. But it was great fun,” she added, her eyes sparkling at the memory. “It’s such a shame that young Mr. Sadler didn’t want an aeronautical wife. It would be a perfect life.”

Aggie looked grim. “I’m afraid our ideas of perfection differ considerably. But if you want to go out today, you’d better get to his lordship right away. Before he leaves.”

Cecilie nodded and went off to be dressed.

When she met Aggie at the breakfast table a little later, Cecilie was smiling happily. “His lordship has already eaten,” she said gaily. “He thinks it’s a grand idea to go to see the paintings. He even says I may take Dillydums along.”

This piece of news was not particularly gratifying to Aggie. It was not that she disliked the monkey. Dillydums was a good little animal. It was only that it was hard enough to keep Cecilie in hand without having to trouble oneself with her pet. Well, she told herself with resignation, she would just have to do the best she could.

So it was that some time later she and Cecilie came down in walking dresses and bonnets, ready to appreciate the great works that the Royal Academy Exhibit offered to the public. Cecilie wore one of her new walking dresses of pale blue sarcenet embellished with white ribbons. Her bonnet was rather small, of white straw trimmed with blue flowers, and looked much better than the gigantic shovel-shaped one she had first settled on. Aggie was glad that she had been prevailed upon to change her mind.

Aggie’s own gown of dove gray jaconet, though old, had not had much wear in Dover and was still presentable. She wore the bonnet designed to go with the dress, a small unobtrusive affair that was probably quite outdated. She did not really care.

Dillydums
,
in his blue trousers and red jacket, seemed to have sensed that he, too, was going out and he clung to Cecilie and chattered excitedly.

Aggie glanced around as they came down the stairs, but his lordship was not in evidence. Quite probably he was out, attending to his business. At least, she thought with an inward smile, he was probably not with Lady Alicia
,
not this early in the day. It was unlikely that the lady had even one eye open by now.

As the carriage moved through the crowded streets, Cecilie and the monkey peered excitedly out the window. “Be sure you have a good hold on the leash,” urged Aggie. “If Dillydums gets loose out here
,
we shall never f
i
nd him.”

“Yes, Aggie, I’m being careful,” Cecilie replied without turning her head. “But the city is so exciting. How I wish I might be free to roam about. There is so much to see.”

“Cecilie!” Aggie tried to keep her voice even, but was not successful. “It is very dangerous for a young woman to be about in the street alone.”

“I don’t see why,” said Cecilie stubbornly. “Look, over there there’s a girl just my age.
She’s
alone.”

Aggie looked. The girl in question was wearing a stained and torn muslin gown. Her hair was tangled and her feet bare. She moved about offering her flowers to passers
-
by
.
To Cecilie she probably looked happy and carefree, but Aggie saw the signs of hunger in the brown eyes cast so prettily upon the customers and under the city grime she glimpsed several large bruises. This poor child did not lead a pleasant life. “That girl is very poor,” she said to Cecilie. “It may look like fun to sell flowers for a little while, but to be forced to do it every day for long hours and to go hungry if you fail - that would not be so good.”

Cecilie turned sobered eyes upon her companion. “Oh
,
Aggie, I know you’re right, but it just looks so exciting out there and I seem always to be kept in.” She reached into her reticule.
“We must buy some of her flowers.” She leaned forward to direct the coachman and minutes later several large bunches of marigolds lay on the floor of the carriage. They would undoubtedly wilt long before their return to Grosvenor Square, but Aggie made no comment.

As the carriage drove on, Cecilie said no more about becoming part of the crowd, but her eyes watched everything avidly. Finally the carriage reached Somerset House and a groom helped them descend. Cecilie’s eyes sparkled as she surveyed the people about her. “I do so like to be out in public,” she said happily. “It makes me feel so much more alive.”

Their admission paid, they entered one of the great halls where paintings hung one above the other reached four and f
i
ve high to the elevated ceiling. Some seemed so high up that they were diff
i
cult to see properly. Cecilie gazed round in awe. “My word, Aggie, I never reali
z
ed there were so many.”

“Take your time looking at them,” Aggie advised. “One cannot rush an appreciation of art. We must give it time to sink into our senses.”

Cecilie nodded. She seemed to be studying a painting that depicted the hazards of the steeplechase. Aggie let her eyes drift till they came to rest on a peaceful sylvan scene. Some people might like the great battle scenes or historical portrayals; others seemed to favor the portraits of well-known personages such as those the newly knighted Sir Thomas Lawrence was wont to do. But she herself favored the charm of a quiet landscape or sometimes the more rugged look of a seascape.

“Look there,” said Cecilie
.
“Aren’t those f
i
gures from the Bible?”

Aggie nodded. “Yes, if I’m not mistaken, that is one of the works of Benjamin West.” Privately she thought the painting a trifle insipid, but she did not say so.

They moved on around the room. “Someone must like horses,” cried Cecilie.

Aggie smiled. “George Stubbs excels at painting horses. I believe he has done a book on the anatomy of the horse.”

Cecilie looked at her. “You mean all about bones and such?”

“Yes, I understand a really good painter must know what is under the surface.”

Cecilie looked thoughtful. “I suppose that would help. Here are some portraits by Sir Thomas Lawrence,” she continued. “I wish he would paint me as he did that lovely lady.”

Leaning closer, Aggie read the name on the portrait and examined it again. She had known the woman whose likeness the painting was supposed to represent
,
and she felt somewhat surprised at the freedom Lawrence had taken with reality. The subject of the portrait seemed much younger than she had even five years ago. And there was a certain ref
i
nement to her features that was lacking in the original. Her hands seemed far too delicate and beautiful and her eyes excessively brilliant. In fact, but for the evidence of the name card, which clearly could not be denied, Aggie would not have recognized the lady at all.
Perhaps,
she thought to herself a bit ironically,
perhaps this was what accounted for Lawrence’s great popularity.

Cecilie paused to stare up at a fine country scene. One of David Wilkie’s
,
Aggie had no doubt, though she could not see up far enough to distinguish the name. It was not difficult, however, to recognize his f
i
ne feeling for color and his enthusiasm for depicting a story of humble contemporary life.

Cecilie pointed to a painting showing rough shaggy horses at feeding time. “I like that,” she said.

Aggie smiled. “So do I. I believe it is one of George Morland’s
.
He also does country scenes. That one further up, of the gypsy
encampment, looks like this work.” She indicated it to Cecilie.