A Sisterly Regard (8 page)

A young man who seemed familiar sat with an older woman in a
box directly across from theirs. "Your Grace," she said, startling the
Duchess out of a doze, "are you acquainted with the gentleman in the box
opposite?"

"What? Who? Great heavens, gel, I can't see that far in this light.
Describe him"

Phaedra did so. "He may be the gentleman whom we aided on
our way to Town. Lord Wilderlake."

"Black haired and swarthy, you say? Could be Wilderlake. If you
had to rescue him, he may be like his father, a ne'er-do-well."

"We did not exactly rescue him." She gave the Duchess a more
detailed account of their encounter with Wilderlake. "I do not believe his
driving was at fault, Aunt Verbain, only that the team was poorly
schooled."

"Hmph. Well, he's got some manners, at least. Should have. His
mother, Elizabeth Summers that was, was a charming woman. Should
have had her head examined, marrying Wilderlake. But her family pushed
her into it, I'll not doubt."

"Could that be his mother with him, Your Grace?" Chloe
asked.

" Tell me what she looks like and I'll tell you. Could be his fancy
piece, just as likely, though."

Chloe described the faded but still attractive woman who shared
the box with Lord Wilderlake. Her Grace allowed as how it might be
Lady Wilderlake, but she would have to see her up close to be sure. "Tell
you what, I'll send 'em an invitation to your ball. Then, if she comes with
him, she's his mother. How does that please you?"

"Oh, Your Grace, you need not do that. I was merely
curious."

Phaedra concealed her smile at the lack of sincerity in her sister's
protest.

"Well, and so am I. Knew the old viscount, his grandfather,
pretty well when I was young. Bit of a rake he was, but a charming one. I
always had a soft spot for him. Married some dowdy chit with a fortune,
took her off to the wilds of somewhere in the north, and wasn't seen for a
few years. When he came back to Town, he...no, never mind that. Would
like to see what this young sprig is like. Haven't heard a word of him since
his father died eight or ten years ago. He's either been out of the country
or he's been up north tryin' to hold the estate together. In that case, you
don't want to be bothered with him." She closed her eyes.

Phaedra resumed her visual exploration of the theatre. Such an
interesting hodgepodge of people.

Mr. Farwell, who had remained in the box at Lady Mary's
invitation, was found to be asleep when the next intermission occurred.
The Duchess expressed no surprise. "He's more apt to be asleep than
awake. Let him alone. He'll wake soon enough if anything interestin'
happens."

Phaedra kept her disapproval to herself, wondering why she
cared enough to feel censorious.

Lady Mary moved to the chair beside Phaedra. "We have hardly
had a chance to visit. I hope the entire Season will not be this
hectic."

"I, too. Mama says that some days one can expect to be invited
to attend three or more events. I cannot imagine maintaining such a frantic
pace for more than a short while without having hysterics."

"Nor can I. I have told Grandmama that I will not let her wear
herself out during this Season. Not that she will listen to me. I expect that
I will have the headache quite often in the coming months."

"And I have convinced my mama that I am sure to disgrace
myself if I am forced to be on my best behavior more than once each day.
She has agreed that I need not gad about with my sister all of the time."
She shared a conspiratorial grin with Lady Mary.

"Your sister is very spirited, is she not?"

"She is, but she is also spoiled," Phaedra replied. "It comes from
being able to twist our father around her littlest finger from the cradle.
Mama has tried to discipline her, but Papa always says she is such a darling
and it would not hurt her to attend just one assembly or to have her own
horse before she could reach the stirrups or to picnic unchaperoned with
the Squire's son or whatever it was that she wanted."

She put a gloved hand to her lips. "Oh, dear. I do sound like a
jealous cat. Do not mistake me. I love my sister, but I am not blind to her
faults. She has a most sweet, generous nature when she is not attempting
to get her own way. It is just that she has such high spirits and such a zest
for life that her emotions sometimes outweigh her good sense."

"Yes, I suspected something of the sort," said Lady Mary. "She is
a most charming and animated girl. I did not mean to sound critical. I do
like her, but I feel that you and I are much more of a kind."

"Oh, but you are not so serious as I," Phaedra objected. "You
are able to converse charmingly and to be at ease in company. I am so
wretchedly unsure of myself with strangers and I have no
conversation."

"I think you underrate yourself. Reggie admires you, and he is a
most discerning person."

"That fop!"

"Yes, Reggie does seem a fop. But there is more to him than
meets the eye. He is quite my favorite honorary brother."

"Then you are not interested in him in a romantic way? My
sister was wondering."

"Oh, my, no. Reggie and I are as comfortable together as if we
were truly siblings. I could never love him as one should love a husband.
But do not let his appearance blind you to his character. You see,
he..."

The rest of her words were lost as the Duchess commanded
them to hush their chatter and let a poor old woman hear the opera.
Phaedra relinquished her seat to Cousin Louisa as the curtain rose for the
final act.

Mr. Farwell still slept.

* * * *

Lord Wilderlake found the opera tedious, despite the glorious
music. His mother professed to be enjoying it excessively. Somewhat
bored, he let his gaze wander over the other boxes during the
intermissions. Soon he noted the presence of Miss Hazelbourne in the
front row of the Duchess of Verbain's box. She was extraordinarily pretty.
The young woman to her left was equally lovely. During the second act,
he attempted to devise ways he might manage an introduction to his good
Samaritan and her companions.

The Season was still young, he told himself sternly. There was
plenty of time for him to find a wife.

The next afternoon saw Lord Gifford's arrival. He entered the
front door just as his wife and daughters gathered in the foyer, ready to
depart.

"Papa," squealed Chloe. "You're here! How wonderful. And
just in time for Lady Everingham's Venetian breakfast."

"Well, miss, you're looking fine as five pence. London must
agree with you." He pulled her arms from around his neck and turned to
embrace his wife. "There my dear, have I caught you just as you were
leaving? I missed you, love, and had hoped that you'd be free to spend the
afternoon with me." He bussed her heartily.

"Welcome to London, my darling. And I have missed you, quite
dreadfully. But no, I cannot spend the afternoon with you, unless you'd
care to accompany us to Lady Everingham's?"

"Not my style, you know that, Isabella. Besides, I can't stand the
old harridan." He turned to his younger daughter. "And how are you,
Phaedra? Has London been as bad as you had feared?"

"No, Papa," she responded. "But then I have been fortunate to
have Cousin Louisa's company and so have avoided being overwhelmed
with gaiety"

"How do you do, my lord?" Cousin Louisa extended her hand to
Lord Gifford. "It is good to see you again. Cousin Isabella, would you like
me to accompany Chloe to Lady Everingham's Venetian breakfast? Phaedra
and I can wait until another day to attend Mrs. Stewart's literary
salon."

"No, Cousin, Phaedra has earned this afternoon with you. I will
go with and my husband can rest or take himself off to his club. We will
not waste away to be apart for one more afternoon.

"Come, Chloe," she continued. "We must be off if we are to be
only fashionably late. Good-bye, my dear. I will see you at dinner this
evening." She blew her husband a kiss as she hurried Chloe out the
door.

"Poor Papa, for us all to desert you," Phaedra said. "Would you
like to come with us?"

"To a Literary Tea? Not on your life." He chuckled as he patted
her on the shoulder. "You go and enjoy yourselves. Though how you can
enjoy a literary bash is beyond me. I'll just take myself off to my club after
I've had a bite of luncheon. Renew old acquaintances and all that, y'know.
Edgemont! Edgemont, you old reprobate, I'm like to faint with hunger. Is
there anything in this house to eat, or have my wife and daughters spent all
my funds on ball gowns and left us to starve?"

Phaedra laughed as the butler listened to her father's words with
a disapproving expression. As she and Cousin Louisa exited, she told the
older woman, "Papa so loves to get the best of Edgemont, who has never
given up trying to train our family in what he considers proper behavior.
Papa is equally persistent in attempting to deflate his pretensions. They
both enjoy the game excessively."

Cousin Louisa replied with a smile, "Edgemont quite
intimidated me when I first came to visit Gifford Court. Since then I have
found him to be both kind and dependable under that so-very-proper
exterior. Do we need a hackney, or shall we walk to Mrs. Stewart's? It
isn't over a mile, and it is such a beautiful day."

Phaedra, liking exercise as much as her companion, voted to
walk.

* * * *

Chloe was much impressed with Lady Everingham's house in
Richmond. It was exceedingly grand and elegant. The vestibule boasted a
magnificent crystal chandelier, and the twin curving staircases to the first
floor were like nothing she had ever seen. The chamber set aside for the
ladies' wraps was decorated with velvet drapes and green-and-rose
flowered wallpaper. A maid was present to assist guests with repairing the
ravages of the short drive from London.

So many beautiful things.
Shelves and tables were laden
with porcelains, paperweights, and assorted other knickknacks, as well as
numerous vases holding fresh and dried flowers.
This is how my house
will look, someday. Filled with priceless treasures in the first stare of
elegance.
She moved slowly, letting her fingertips drift across
polished table tops, hover above a finely detailed china shepherdess and
her love. It seemed to her that the very air she breathed was rich and
sweet.

In the sunken garden two large open-sided tents sheltered small
tables. A third tent held a long table upon which rested platters, bowls,
and trays displaying a rich variety of foods. In the midst of beds of daffodils
and tulips stood a wooden platform upon which a small string quartet
played music she recognized as being from the pen of a famous Austrian
composer whose works she did not care for. Liveried waiters were
everywhere, carrying trays of full and empty champagne glasses.
This
is my world, the world I was destined to reside in.

A large woman wearing a deep purple gown and a towering
purple turban stood at the top of the wide marble stairway leading down
into the garden. She inclined her head slightly as Chloe and her mother
approached.

"My dear Lady Everingham," Lady Gifford said, "how kind in
you to invite us. I wish you to meet my elder daughter, Chloe."

Chloe curtsied to Lady Everingham and murmured her pleasure
at being invited. The latter looked the girl up and down and said, curtly,
"Looks like her pa, more's the pity. Too bad she doesn't take after you,
Isabella."

Before Chloe could speak, her mother said, "Considering how
attractive you used to think my husband, Mathilde, we will take that as a
compliment."

Lady Everingham snorted. "Your tongue's not grown any
sweeter, has it? Never mind. I'm glad to see you." She looked down her
nose at Chloe. "Here's my son, the earl. Make you acquainted with Miss
Hazelbourne, Jeremy. Go on now and mingle, the two of you. Isabella and
I have catching up to do."

Chloe held out her hand to the slender, colorless young man,
only to find it clutched tightly. He smiled at her as he raised it to his lips
and kissed it. She noticed that his teeth were slightly crooked and his nose
overly long. But Lord Everingham was an earl. His appearance was
unimportant. Furthermore, the maintenance of a house and garden like
this one bespoke a large fortune.

"I am happy to meet you, my lord." She pretended to be thrilled
at the kiss and suppressed the urge to wipe her hand upon her skirt.

"And I you, Miss Hazelbourne. May I say that your beauty can
only enhance the delights of my mother's garden."

He is an earl,
Chloe reminded herself.
A rich
earl.
"Thank you my lord. Such a nice party, is it not?"

"I suppose, although my mother's parties are not usually
enjoyable to me. Today, I believe I shall enjoy myself."

"Please, Lord Everingham, release my hand. People are
beginning to stare."

"Your hand? Of course." Instead of releasing it, he tucked it into
the crook of his arm. "Let me show you the remainder of the garden. But
first, some champagne." He stopped a passing waiter and took two glasses
from his tray.

Chloe had been firmly instructed by her mother to drink nothing
stronger than lemonade, but she decided a single glass of champagne
would not harm her. She had never tasted it, and was so very curious. She
sipped--and sneezed.

"Are you quite all right, Miss Hazelbourne? Is it too chilly
here?"

"No, I am all right." She sipped again from the glass. "I always
sneeze at the first taste of champagne," she said, with all the sophistication
she could muster. "It is so delicious that it is quite worth the discomfort of
the sneeze."

Lord Everingham guided her into a shrub-lined path paved with
mossy flagstones. They were soon hidden from the party by the masses of
greenery.